
Class JEiiiliL 
Book . L 1 o (o- 
GoppghtlJ" 13JL2^^ 

COPXRSGHT DEPOSm 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



By J. M. HICKMAN 



Copyrighted, 1921 
By J. M. HICKMAN 

Earle, Arkansas 



SONGS FROM 
THE OZARKS 

AND OTHER POEMS 



J. M. HICKMAN 



PRESS OF 

The Memphis Linotype Printing Company 
Memphis, Tenn. 

Third Edition 






DEDICATION 

To my friends at Earle, Arkansas, this little volume 
is lovingly dedicated by the Author. 

J. M. HICKMAN. 



O)CI.A659530 



APR 10 1522. 



o t 




The Author 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



CONTENTS 

Page 

A Beautiful Little Poem, You Say 77 

Acrostic 58 

A Dream 86 

A Drive Along a Country Road 60 

A Faded Leaf 78 

All the Little Birds Are Singing 45 

An Angel Guards 91 

A Picture on a Calendar 7 

A Prayer 121 

A Reverie 64 

A Spirit of Love 85 

A Trickling, Tiny Spring 41 

A Wee Little Flower 106 

A White Rose 76 

Blue Birds 9 

Blue-Eyed Girls 10 

But Few Know 12 

Catherine Eugene 31 

Come, Gwendoline 126 

Contempt 129 

Criticism 46 

Don't Forget to Read Your Bible 115 

Eternity 70 

Eyes of Blue 6 

Finis 134 

Fond Memory 28 

Forgotten 55 

Four Seasons 132 

God Stood Upon 84 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Page 

Has Your Ship Come In? 53 

Hearts That Beat True 57 

Helen Adam Keller 128 

Hope Without Judgment 87 

How Stands the Ballot 89 

I Can Never Return 27 

I Can Only Sing An Humble Song 96 

I Cannot Sing 80 

If in My Verse 26 

If You Esteem Me 105 

If We Could Only Trust 63 

I First Saw and Loved Her 98 

I Lift My Heart 52 

I Love to Wander O'er the Hills 71 

I'm Footsore and Weary 30 

I'm Thinking of Years 124 

I Never Thought of Death 104 

In My Lady's Garden 107 

I Plucked a Rose 32 

I Still Have Faith 54 

I've Wandered Much 49 

I Wonder 93 

John William Head, Jr 73 

Let Me Pillow My Head 18 

Lights and Shadows 68 

Lives There a Man 50 

Lonely Amidst tlie Crowd 101 

Magnolias Bloom 58 

Man's Noblest Thoughts 88 

Mocking Bird 125 

Musing 92 

My Old Black Mammy 42 



VI 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Page 

Oh, Destiny, Thou Breath of God 108 

Oh, Friend of Mine 24 

Oh, Little Maid 40 

Oh, the Joy of Spreading 36 

Opportune 97 

Optimism 47 

Perhaps Above 19 

Pinned to a Doll Raffled for Orphans 50 

Prologue 4 

Reply to the Critic 2 

Resentment 123 

Rest You, Stranger 69 

Result of Ancient Wrongs 130 

Retrospect 44 

Robin Red Breast 74 

Room for Me 103 

Soon Will Come 38 

Sweet Things 48 

Take Me By the Hand 55 

The Boy Who Whistles 17 

The Evening Shadows 94 

The Faithful Few 59 

The Murmur of the Waters 13 

The River of Tears 100 

The Salvation Lassie 56 

The Sighing of the Wind 67 

The Southland 11 

There Never Was 62 

There's a Pleasant Little Bower 92 

They Coldly Pass Me By 82 

They Say We Cannot Sing So Well 95 

They Sent Sweet Flowers 66 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Page 

Tinkling of the Ice 34 

'Tis a Bonny Land 7 

'Tls Best 33 

To Friends Unknown 39 

To Maggie 128 

Tread Softly, She's Dying 110 

Upon the Level 29 

Waiting for the CaU 113 

What Dost Thine Eyes See? 117 

What the Critic Said 1 

When Doubts Assail 99 

When Friends of Youth 114 

When I Die 20 

When I Was a Boy 63 

When Last I Lay Me Down 16 

When Leaves Are Turning 133 

When the Full Moon 24 

When the Heart Is Gently Throbbing 15 

When the Heart's Full of Love 26 

When the Sunset Soft Is Glowing 72 

Where the Sweet Waters Flow 37 

Why Do We Cling? 14 

Ye Hills and Dales 112 

You Ask Me 73 

You Ask Me Why 20 

You Will Find a Few Masons There 33 



viii 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



CONTENTS 
Book II 

Page 
An Answer to a Poem Written by Miss S. of Oregon. 

Poem Was Entitled "If" 241 

A Common Weed 165 

As Each Day 169 

A Frozen Bird 152 

Alas! I Cannot 139 

A Little Negro Girl 217 

A Masonic Prayer 201 

A Master Mason's Advice to His Son 183 

A Plea for Dumb Brute 193 

A Rare Jewel 192 

A Trial 232 

Brethren of the Three Degrees 227 

But Few Have Gift 148 

Carolyn Louise Jenkins 158 

Come, Wander in the Fragrant Dew 138 

Come, Little Maid 239 

Could I But Say 151 

Criminals 156 

Dear Reader 138 

Earle High School 137 

Evening Shadows 146 

Fate Hath Ordained 143 

Finis 254 

Had I the Gift of Melody 141 

Humming Birds 235 

If In This World 139 

Impulse 140 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

I Answer Not 250 

I Would Not Ask a Greater Boon 159 

I Saw My Heart 216 

If I Could Only Be 140 

In Dreams 144 

Keep the Soul Beautiful 160 

King Baby 140 

Let Us Not Look for Trouble, 'Til Trouble Troubles Us. . .209 

Life's Sands Are Flowing 182 

Maggie 174 

Maid of Earle 22T 

Memory Is Sweetly Calling 173 

Morning Glories 214 

Mothers' Sons 157 

Mothers of Old 178 

My Headstone 141 

My Little Grandson 180 

My Old Home in the Country 237 

Neglected Confederate Soldiers' Graves 208 

Nick T. Pegues, Jr., and S. M. Mauney 177 

No Poetry for Me, He Said 198 

Nobody Calls 243 

Nobody Wants Dreams 211 

Now as the Leaves Fall 181 

Of Homely Things I Sing 251 

Oh, for the Calm 200 

Oh, Drop Me a Line 205 

Old Cross Vine Smoke 210 

One Tender Glance 140 

O, I'm Always Dreaming 213 

On Death of Mrs. H 229 

Passing Away 195 

Passing of Barley Corn 175 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Red Roses and White Roses 150 

Remorse 154 

Reply to Criticism of Negro Editor on the Old Time 

Negro r 163 

Rosaline 1T2 

Sad and Weary 224 

See the Little Stars 190 

Seven Stages of Life 221 

Skeletons 159 

Smile 240 

Song of the Laborer 194 

Spring Is Coming, Gentle Annie 210 

Suppose the Motive 176 

The Autumn of My Life 206 

The Birds All Sit 149 

The Called vs. Professional 202 

The Master of Our Lodge 220 

The Old Time Negro 161 

The Old Excuse: At Lodge Last Night 230 

The Ruined Temple at Jerusalem 188 

There Is a Boy 154 

Thou Shalt Have Freedom, All 242 

'Tis Solemn Night (A War Poem) 204 

To Ludie H 225 

To Mildred Brandes 186 

To My Wife: On Fortieth Anniversary of Wedded Life 186 

To My Grandchildren 139 

To the Masons of Vicksburg, Miss 137 

'Twas Midnight 145 

We Seldom Wed 230 

What Might Have Been 196 

Within This Garden 168 

Wrinkles 207 



xi 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Author After Title Page 

Prologue Facing Page 4 

Eyes of Blue Facing Page 6 

You Ask Me Why? Facing Page 22 

Forgotten Facing Page 56 

Ye Hills and Dales Facing Page 112 

'Twas Midnight Facing Page 145 

Carolyn Louise Jenkins Facing Page 158 

I Would Not Ask a Greater Boon Facing Page 160 

Mj Little Grandson Facing Page 180 

To Mildred Brandes Facing Page 186 

Oh, for the Calm Facing Page 200 



xii 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



WHAT THE CRITIC SAID 

Your verses are not culture-wrought, 

Is what the critic said; 
Though many are quite full of thought 

And will be oft re-read. 

The grammar seems to be all right 

And all the meter true; 
Sometimes you reach to lofty height — 

Again, you sink with blue. 

Sometimes with hope you take your flight 

And sing a happy strain. 
And then, cast down in darkest night, 

Seem full of grief and pain. 

Sometimes with God you seem to dwell 
And climb the mountain's side; 

And then, like demon from old hell. 
You seek from Him to hide. 

Sometimes your heart seems beauty's home. 

And flowers seem to bloom; 
And then, like wayward child to roam. 

Seems full of dismal gloom. 






SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Sometimes you seem all full of doubt 

And cast the Christ aside; 
Again, with joy you sing and shout, 

And with Him close abide. 

Oh, man! What's weaving in your brain 

To call forth all of this? 
Have you lived both a life of pain 

And then a life of bliss? 

Does old remorse, in looking back, 
Call forth the anguished cry, 

And wring your soul with torture's rack. 
That you so moan and sigh? 

Let future life with faith attain 

Forgiveness for the past. 
For God is able to sustain. 

And then your joy will last. 



REPLY TO THE CRITIC 

I care not how the poets wrote, 
Nor for the rules they had; 

I sing the songs of my own note. 
Let them be good or bad. 

I sing not for the lord or squire — 

For them I do not tone 
The muse's harp strings, but my lyre 

Is for the poor alone. 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Let others copy all they please 

The poets of the past; 
I'll bend to them no humble knees. 

Though my songs may not last. 

At least the songs will be my own. 
That from my heart were born; 

And as I do not seek renown, 
I do not fear their scorn. 

If but the poor and humble sing 

A single song of mine, 
That to them happiness will bring, 

I'll say the pay's divine. 

If gathered 'round their hearth at night 
All grieved and full of care. 

One song of mine would make them light, 
T'will be good pay, I swear. 

If humble hearts in after years 
Should say his heart was love — 

He helped to wipe away our tears, 
T 'would give me joy above. 

Then others may sing as they wiU 

To educated ears, 
I'll raise my voice in humble trill 

To wipe away poor tears. 



-3— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



PROLOGUE 

I come, untrammeled by man's art, 
And sing without a guiding chart; 
Uncultured though the songs may be, 
They're caught from nature's melody. 
In nature, I have heard the song 
Of happy creatures all day long, 
Who live in peace, without a greed, 
Contented with their daily need. 

I 've always loved the woods and streams- 
Have always, in my youthful dreams. 
Built rustic cabin in some nook. 
And there, with nature for my book. 
Away from all the mad'ning strife. 
Serenely pass this earthly life, 
Without a thought of wealth or creed. 
Content with just my daily need. 

I've seen leaves turning sere and brown. 
With streaks of red and gold to crown; 
I've seen them floating down the streams 
Like fairies in sweet childhood dreams. 
I 've caught the sound of swaying breeze 
A-rustling through the top of trees ; 
I've listened, and I've caught the fall 
Of leaves that dropped to autumn's call. 

I would not swap the mocking bird 
For any music that I 've heard, 
Though Wagner 'd be at organ grand. 
Accompanied by Sousa's band; 



—4 — 




'I've always loved the woods and streams- 
Have always, in my youthful dreams, 
Built rustic cabin in some nook." 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The warbling of his wild, sweet note, 
Born in his heav'nly music throat, 
Just makes the very soul aspire 
To join the angels in God's choir. 

I would not swap the twilight hour 
For all the city 's lectric power ; 
I would not give old nature 's green 
For any city park I 've seen. 
I would not give the moon's soft rays 
For any of their great white ways; 
I'd rather sleep on beds of moss, 
Than on a velvet mattress toss. 

I sing the song of woods and streams. 
Of starlight nights and pale moonbeams, 
Of mossy dells and vine-clad nooks. 
And rippling, drippling, gladsome brooks. 
I sing of reed and rush and brush. 
Of clustered fern, with a green flush; 
Of graceful boughs and dark green leaves. 
And trailing vine that interweaves. 

I sing just as I see and hear. 

The songs of nature, ever dear; 

The sounds I hear beneath the trees — 

Of swelling buds and busy bees. 

I sing the song of hill and vale. 

Of mocking bird, and thrush, and quail ; 

Of little wren and oriole. 

Of chipmunk, and the velvet mole. 



—5— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I sing of winds that softly blow. 

Of evening sunset's golden glow; 

Of azure skies with tinted hue, 

And morning glories freshed with dew. 

I sing, untrammeled by man's art, 

The songs of dear old nature's heart, 

The songs of winds and woods and streams, 

And starlight nights, and pale moonbeams. 



EYES OF BLUE 

I love the woods — indeed I do — 

I love the hills and vales; 
I love the violets so blue, 

And flowers in the dales. 

I love the honeysuckle, too, 
And dogwood, all in bloom; 

I love sweet blossoms freshed with dew. 
And reeds and rush in plume. 

I love the leaves that fall from trees, 
I love the greenwood brush, 

I love to lie in silent ease 
Amidst old nature's hush. 

I love the wren, the sparrow, too. 

The little thrush and quail ; 
I love the birds of red and blue, 

And mocking birds I hail. 




'A saucy, teasing blue-eyed girl, 
Who says she loves me, too." 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I love the lark, the whippoorwill, 
The jaybird and the dove; 

I love the gentle flowing rill — 
They lift my thoughts above. 

But, best of all, I love a girl — 
A girl with eyes of blue ; 

A saucy, teasing blue-eyed girl. 
Who says she loves me, too. 



A PICTURE ON A CALENDAR 

A mountain reaching to the skies, 

A valley spread to view; 
A cabin on a gentle rise, 

And clouds o'erhead of blue; 
The cattle wading in the stream. 

The sunset in the west; 
A picture lovely as a dream. 

That lulls you to sweet rest. 



'TIS A BONNY LAND 

'Tis a bonny land of ours, 

Where the pinks and daisies grow. 
And full many lovely flowers. 

With a blushing beauty blow; 
And the birds forever singing 

With a melody so sweet. 
That the soul with rapture winging. 

Keeps true measure with each beat. 



—7— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



There are mossy dells and bowers, 

Where the lassies love to go ; 
And the sunset's golden showers 

Fills the western sky with glow. 
And the trees and vines and creepers, 

With a lovely, verdant green, 
Mingled with the voice of reapers, 

Adds a cadence to the scene. 

There are hills and verdant valleys. 

There are lofty mountain heights. 
Where the footstep ever dallies, 

For the soul in them delights. 
There are crystal streams of water, 

There are pearly azure skies. 
And you linger and you loiter. 

While your heart emits sweet sighs. 

Oh, there never was another 

Like our own sweet Southern land; 
For the angels are its mother 

And its beauty doth expand. 
With its many buds and blossoms, 

Which in balmy breezes blow, 
It just fills all hearts and bosoms 

With the beauty of its glow. 



-8— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



BLUE BIRDS 

An ardent little lover 

Flew to an apple tree, 
Where a demure little maiden 

Was singing cheerily. 

Said the ardent little lover, 
"To-whit, to-whit, to-whee," 

Said the demure little maiden, 

"Do you mean that, sir, for me?" 

Said the ardent little lover, 
"To- whit, to-whit, to-whee. 

Means, demure little maiden. 
Will you my sweetheart be?" 

Said the demure little maiden 

That sang so cheerily, 
"What have you, sir, to offer, 

As an inducement to me?" 

Said the ardent little lover, 
"To-whit, to-whit. to-whee! 

I've a pleasant little bower 
Upon a cherry tree." 

Then the demure little maiden 
Just hung her head and sighed. 

And spread her tiny little wings 
And floated by his side. 



—9— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



BLUE-EYED GIRLS 

I love the merry, blue-eyed girl, 

With dimples on her chin, 
And many a sunny, flashing curl, 

And mouth just made to grin. 
The girl who frankly looks at you. 

With courage true and straight. 
Bespeaking nature good and true. 

Without envy or hate. 

The girl who's not afraid to be 

Just plain girl, every day; 
Who's always singing cheerily, 

At work, or at her play. 
The girl who smiles on every one, 

At home or on the street, 
Yet full of mischief, full of fun — 

Oh, such a girl's a treat. 



The healthy freckled girl, you know, 

With sunshine in her face. 
Who loves to tease dear father so. 

When he's about the place. 
The girl who romps and plays tomboy, 

When brother is at home. 
With heart just full of sunny joy. 

And cheeks like Southern gloam. 



—10— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



THE SOUTHLAND 

Oh, land of sweet dreams 

Where bahny winds blow, 
And clear rippling streams 
Of cool waters flow, 

With ripple and splash 
And many a dash 
Against the green bank 
Where nature grows rank- 
I love thy green vales, 

Thy glens and thy dells. 
Where nature prevails 
And godliness dwells. 

Oh, land of the rose, 

Magnolia and pine. 
Where sweet ozone blows 
'Midst tangle and vine. 
And violets blue, 
With heavenly hue 
Peep up from the soil, 
Where nature doth toil — 
I love every breeze. 

Each beam of sunshine, 
The swaying of trees — 
The music divine. 

Oh, land of wee rills 

And clear running brooks, 

Where mocking; bird trills 
Amidst shadv nooks, 



—11— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



And thrush, wren and quail 
With songs do regale 
Full many an hour 
Beneath shady bower — 
I love every scene. 

Each twig and each flow'r 
In old nature green, 

That upward doth tow 'r. 

Oh, land of my youth, 
That ever doth seem 
A sunland of truth, 
A sweet fairy dream, 

Where lovely maids blush 
With roseate flush 
That melts with its glow 
Like delicate snow — 
My heart ever beats 

With a love that's divine 
Amidst thy retreats — 
Oh, land of sunshine! 

BUT FEW KNOW 

But few know who or what is God — 
Most bow themselves beneath a rod 
Of priestly craft and man-made creed 
That falls far short of their real need. 

The best we make of life on earth 
Is, render to all men their worth; 
Be honest, fair, and truly square — 
'Twill make a heaven anywhere. 

—12— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



THE MURMUR OF THE WATERS 

Oh, the murmur of the water 

As it gently flows along, 
Is the sweetest of all music, 

Singing soft its low sweet song. 
Oh, the harmony, all joining 

With the gentle zephyr's breeze, 
And the melody of birds that 

Sing in top of swaying trees. 

Oh, I love to hear the music 

As it ripples near the bank 
And refreshes all the willows 

There, so green and tall and rank. 
Oh, it 'minds me of sweet heaven, 

Where the waters murmur low. 
As I lie full length upon the 

Bank, and watch the sunset glow. 

Oh, my thoughts go drifting outward 

With the pleasant flowing tide. 
And I dream of heav'nly mansion, 

Where at last I shall abide. 
Oh, it lifts my soul in rapture 

As it murmurs soft and clear. 
And my heart it seems to capture 

With a melody of cheer. 

Oh, the glinting of the evening's 

Sun upon the waters shine, 
With a tinting of the rainbow's 

Hues, that seems almost divine. 

—13— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Oh, I drink refreshing nectar 
From its bosom of pure gold, 

And I bathe in gleams of glory, 
With a j oy that can 't be told. 

Oh, there never was such music 

As the waters sweet and low, 
Like the chiming of a distant 

Bell, as on they gently flow. 
Oh, it lifts your thoughts to heaven 

And your soul it seems to rest, 
As the waters sing in harmony 

With the sunset in the west. 

WHY DO WE CLING.? 

Why do we cling to mortal life. 

And every day repeat 
The same old daily struggling strife, 

With others to compete? 
We wake at morn and tasks begin, 

Where ended day before — 
With earnest hope of heart to win 

Great wealth to lay in store. 

Sometimes we weep, sometimes we smile, 

Sometimes we dance and sing; 
Sometimes we sleep and rest awhile 

And dream eternal spring. 
Yet as each morning dawn appears 

We face the same old strife; 
Again the struggling and the tears 

Of this old mortal life. 



—14— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



WHEN THE HEART IS GENTLY THROBBING 

When your heart is gently throbbing 

With a love for fellow man, 
And your soul is yearning strongly 

Just to help one, if you can — 
Oh, the days, they just seem brighter 

As you journey long life's road, 
And your burdens all seem lighter — 

For love lightens all the load. 

When your heart with love expanding 

Stretches forth a helping hand, 
To some fellow who is stranding 

On an isle of sinking sand. 
You will feel a stir within you 

That will fill you with delight. 
And his glance of adoration 

Will be a pleasant sight. 

Oh, the j oy of helping onward 

Some poor fellow full of care — 
Some poor, hopeless, struggling fellow. 

Almost full of dark despair. 
Just to make hope seem some brighter, 

Just to cheer him on his way; 
Just to make his burdens lighter. 

Just his fearsome thoughts allay. 

Ah, 'twill fill your heart with gladness, 
Make your burden light to bear — 

It will drive away all sadness, 
Make you welcome everywhere; 

—15— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

And when twilight draws about you 

In the evening of your life, 
Throngs of friends will gather 'round you 

As you leave this worldly strife. 



WHEN LAST I LAY ME DOWN 

When last I lay me down to sleep 

Until the break of day, 
I wish not for my friends to weep 

O'er my poor frame of clay. 

I merely wish to rest in peace 

Amongst the silent dead. 
Where earthly troubles all will cease, 

And flowers overspread. 

A plain white stone to mark the place 

Where I am to be found. 
My name, just traced upon its face. 

Then — silence all around. 

Then, when your heart is troubled, friend, 
Just come to my green mound. 

And with my spirit silent blend, 
'Midst solitude profound. 



—16— 



SONGSFROM THE OZARKS 



THE BOY WHO WHISTLES 

I love a boy who whistles 

With a merry face, and gay — 
Who cares naught for the thistles 

That one meets with every day; 
A boy that's always merry, 

Just full of prank and play — 
Whose face is ever cheery, 

Like the blushing month of May. 

Who does not fear the sunshine, 

Nor the freckles on his face; 
Who climbs the tangled grape vine, 

With a squirrel's nimble grace. 
Who loves the hills and mountains, 

And is ever near the place 
Where flows old nature's fountains. 

In a silv'ry splashing race. 

Who loves the cooling water 

In the sunny month of June, 
Where footsteps ever loiter. 

For he hates to leave so soon. 
The streams are ever smiling 

And he is always in tune. 
With puckered lips beguiling — 

He is whistling morn and noon. 

I love the careless free heart 

Of the barefoot freckled boy. 
The boy who takes his own part 

In this world of grief and joy; 

—17— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The boy that's ever beaming 
With a smile that doth decoy, 

And sunny face all gleaming 
From a heart that's full of joy. 



LET ME PILLOW MY HEAD 

Let me pillow my head where the moonbeams will spread 

All of their soft, sweet glow — 
With the trees overhead, and the earth for my bed, 

Where zephyrs softly blow. 

Let me dream a sweet dream, while its soft milky stream 

Cast shadows all around. 
Catch the beauties that beam from each soft chastened 
gleam, 

'Midst solitude profound. 

Let me drift with each wave, like a worn wearied slave 

Who has found balm at last; 
Let me rest in its rays 'neath the magnolia bays, 

Forgetting all the past. 

Let me bathe in the stream of its soft milky cream. 

While the shadows come and go; 
Let me drink in each beam of the glimmering gleam. 

That I may softly glow. 

Let me feel a release, of life's troubles a surcease, 

And sink unto my rest; 
Let me sleep in sweet peace, while the soft rays increase, 

To light me to the blest. 

—18— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



PERHAPS ABOVE 

Perhaps above — unknown to us below — 
Those whom we love, to God do daily go. 
And kneeling there, before the heavenly throne. 
Plead with sweet prayer, that mercy may be shown. 

Perhaps unknown, they come to us in dreams. 
And in soft tone, like gentle flowing streams, 
Whisper a song so full of hope's sweet cheer 
It makes us strong, and drives away all fear. 

Perhaps — who knows ? God sends them, when despair 
Our heart overflows, to lighten all our care? 
He knows our frame, that we are naught but dust, 
Helpless in sin and shame. We can but trust. 

Perhaps for this. He sends them to us here, 
To fill with bliss and sinking spirits cheer. 
For God doth know we need encouragement — 
Like the rainbow to men of old, was sent. 

Perhaps it may that in God's wisdom way, 
Just to allay our fearsome thoughts each day. 
He lets them come to hover 'bout our bed. 
And comfort's crumb, o'er all our troubles spread. 

Perhaps — but, nay, I will not further write, 
For every day we see God's love and might; 
Let us but trust in love and confidence, 
For great and just is His benevolence. 



—19— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



WHEN I DIE 

When I die^ lay me away 
Where sweet flower leaves will spray 
All their sweetness on my head, 
Making fair my cold, damp bed. 

Border all around my grave 
Every flower that I crave; 
Give to each one proper care — 
Make the spot to blossom fair. 

Cover, then, the mound with green, 
Adding to the pleasant scene; 
Come, then, sit where beauty's rife 
And dream of iir.niortal life. 



YOU ASK ME WHY.? 

You ask me why I waste my time 

In singing songs, in verse and rhyme.'' 

I hear old nature sweetly sing 

A song, that makes the welkin ring. 

The buds and blossoms swelling there 

With fragrance sweet that fills the air, 

Have voices full of melody 

That somehow fills me with their glee. 

My heart responsive, full of love. 
In gratitude to God above, 
Just overflows without restraint 
And tries in feeble words to paint 



-20— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The glories of creation here, 
Upon this dear old hemisphere, 
And like a mocking bird repeat 
The songs I hear in nature sweet. 

I never cross a hill or dale 
But what old nature has a tale 
To tell me, of some new-born thing, 
Whose beaut}^ cause a song to spring 
Up in my heart, and I would fain 
Tell it to all in rythmic strain. 
That they might upward lifted be. 
Love God and nature, just like me. 

It matters not the time of year — 

Old nature's to me ever dear; 

Though leaves are gone, and trees are bare, 

She still has many beauties rare, 

And there is music in the sound 

Of dead leaves rustling on the ground; 

And even in those leaves you see 

A trace that's left of spring's beauty. 

Each creature has prepared before 
For what old nature had in store. 
And snug they are, in nest or hole — 
Be it a squirrel, fox or mole, 
And there in happy comfort stay 
Until cold winter's passed away. 
At peep of spring they venture out 
And scamper joyfully about. 



-21- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Each has a note of gratitude, 
Though to your ear it might sound rude, 
Yet each one's note, though it sounds odd, 
Just reaches to the ear of God. 
He bends and listens to each note, 
Though coming from a muffled throat — 
Reciprocates to each one's call. 
Just as He heeds the sparrow's fall. 

In spring, when everything is green, 
The swelling buds and flowers are seen; 
The birds, all mating here and there. 
With love's sweet song, float in the air. 
They build their nests on bough and limb, 
'Midst noisy life they raise a hymn; 
I'd rather hear the song birds sing 
Than be a nation's pampered king. 

Then can you ask me why my time 
Is often spent in verse and rhyme .^ 
Great God ! Deliver me from wealth. 
So often gained by wrongs and stealth, 
By men garbed in religion's cloak. 
Who sit in the church pews and croak, 
And sing, and pray, with pious air. 
While all the time a devil's there! 

Who possibly the day before 
Put some poor widow out of door. 
With little children in bare feet. 
To wander homeless in the street! 



-22- 




'For 'mongst the woods and limpid streams 
Your heart is filled with wond'rous dreams." 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

I 'd rather live 'mongst nature 's haunts 
Than gilded halls of wealth and vaunts, 
And eat the nuts and fruits found there, 
Than fill such poor hearts with despair. 

For 'mongst the woods and limpid streams 
Your heart is filled with wondrous dreams ; 
No thought in you to over-ride, 
No vanity or foolish pride; 
But full of love and sweet content. 
Your very soul's with nature blent. 
Then, as the days pass swiftly by. 
Your heart emits a soft sweet sigh. 

I do not call it wasting time, 
To sing a song in verse or rhyme, 
God whispers, and I hear Him call. 
And sing the song, that it may fall 
On hearts that's full of sympathy. 
For those who live in misery; 
And hearing, lift those fallen up, 
And take from them the bitter cup. 

This is my mission here on earth; 
May I prove worthy of my birth. 
May all my songs float high and wide 
And their influence over-ride 
The mean and low-born, filthy schemes 
Of foxy scoundrels, in their dreams. 
Who seek to take advantage here. 
Regardless of the poor one's tear. 



— 2S— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



WHEN THE FULL MOON 

When the full moon is shining bright. 

And stars above are gleaming; 
And soft, pale rays of milky light, 

All o'er the earth are beaming, 
I love to walk beneath the trees, 

'Midst shadows softly glowing. 
And feel the gentle evening breeze 

Upon my cheeks a-blowing. 

I love to dream a silent dream. 

While nature seems reposing; 
And listen to the rythmic stream, 

Its secrets all disclosing. 
'Tis then I lift my heart above 

To God, the great Creator, 
And realize He rules with love. 

All in this world's theater. 



OH, FRIEND OF MINE 

Oh, friend of mine, the golden glow 
Of youth is gone — my head's like snow; 
And often now I moan and sigh 
For dear old days that have passed by. 

They never can return again — 
Those dear old days so free from pain — 
Those golden years of youthful dreams, 
So full of joy and sunny beams. 

—24— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



In misty vision I can see 
The winding road that used to be; 
The trees that shaded by the way, 
The place where once we loved to play. 

I hear again the bird's sweet song — 
The mocking bird that trilled so strong — 
I see and hear the bees all hum— 
The orchard and the rip 'ning plum. 

I see the tassels on the corn, 
The tangled thicket full of thorn, 
The fields of grain spread out to view, 
And sunny skies of deepest blue. 

Oh, friend of mine, when we were young. 
Sweet hope was bright — the birds all sung. 
But now, in looking back today. 
The hope is gone — has passed away. 

But, friend of mine, old mem'ry's dream 
Brings to the heart a sunny beam; 
And though a tear bedims the eye, 
Still joy is felt in each soft sigh. 

The past sweet dreams can ne'er return. 
But through that past we may discern 
More clearly what life's values are, 
And future life may yield a star. 

Then, friend of mine, at the last scene. 
When the sun has set with golden sheen, 
May you pass out without a sigh. 
And upward wing to God on high. 

—2.5- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



IF IN MY VERSE 

If in my crude and dreamy verse 
Some pleasure will instill. 

And somewhat of your cares reverse — 
It will its mission fill. 

In after years, when left alone, 
And hope has met defeat. 

Should song of mine for grief atone- 
Then, its mission is complete. 



WHEN THE HEART'S FULL OF LOVE 

When the heart's full of love, 
And your thoughts are above — 
And the soul is content, 
And the mind with God's blent — 
You will feel a sweet calm. 
Like a soft healing balm. 
For your life will be joy. 
With good things to employ. 

When at peace with all men. 
With your voice or with pen, 
You can speak, or can write. 
Some sweet song of delight. 
That will fill with a thrill 
Some poor heart that is ill. 
And restore it to health, 
By the pow'r of love's wealth. 

—26— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Then a joy will be thine 
That's akin to divine, 
For you'll feel in your soul 
That the Lord has control; 
And your smile will entrance, 
Though it be but a glance, 
Every one that you meet, 
In a palace or street. 

Oh, the wealth of great love 
That descends from above, 
When our hearts are all right- 
Fills the soul with delight. 
And we just love all things, 
And a song upward springs. 
Not a cloud in the sky. 
For our Savior is nigh. 



I CAN NEVER RETURN 

I can never return where the journey began. 

For the brambles are thick, where the old highway ran; 

The footpath is gone — not a sign or a track, 

Nor a guiding post, that will point the way back. 

I started the journey to the land of dreams 
In the spring of the year, when the sunshine beams ; 
The birds were all singing a sweet song of cheer. 
My footsteps were lightsome — not a sigh or a tear. 

—27— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The murmur of waters that rippled along, 

Just sang to me daily, a sweet gurgling song; 

And the rustling of leaves that swayed to the breeze, 

Displayed all their beauty in the top of the trees. 

But the frost of the winter, nipped the blooms of the 

spring. 
And blighted all beauty with a cold, icy sting; 
It left me all saddened a pathway to tread, 
'Midst nature all barren and hopes that were dead. 

Like a child that is lost in the midst of a wood, 
I circle about — would return if I could; 
But I've wandered afar — bewildered I stand. 
And am lost in a wilderness of sinking sand. 



FOND MEMORY 

Fond memory will ever trace. 

In glancing back the years. 
Each feature of your dear old face. 

And fill my eyes with tears. 

'Twill bring to mind the days endeared 

That never can return. 
But which will ever be revered 

And cause the heart to burn. 

The pleasant jaunts by lakes and streams, 
O'er hills and meadows green, 

Will oft return in silent drenm.s, 
And thoughts of you, I ween. 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The music of the rippling brook, 

The gentle zephyr's breeze, 
The trout we caught upon the hook, 

The grand, majestic trees — 

Each will again be brought to view, 

And many a wildwood scene. 
As often as I think of you. 

Will also intervene. 

Though age may bend and bow the frame, 
And locks turn white like snow, 

I'll think of you as just the same 
You were in youth's young glow. 

And when at last unto the dust, 

Our bodies, they consign. 
E'en then, while moldering in the crust, 

Mav both our memories twine. 



UPON THE LEVEL 

''Do you meet upon the level .^" 
Said my wife to me, one day. 

"I heard you say that Masons did — 
Now, is this true, I say.^" 

'Twas only yesterday you said, 
Let not the children play 

With those of poor old Mr. Head. 
For thev were common clav. 



-29— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



That we could not afford to be 

On social terms with them; 
That our select society 

Would banish and condemn. 

Now, say, is that your Masonry, 
And that your boasted creed? 

If so, I cannot fail to see — 
It needs some love to breed. 

I dropped my head in humble shame, 

I sought excuse to find, 
For poor old Head, a Mason, 

Was a brother true and kind. 

And careful since I've been, my friend, 
Of thoughts that inward dwell, 

For like dear Robert Burns, I say. 
Such thoughts are born in hell. 



I'M FOOTSORE AND WEARIED 

I'm footsore and wearied with climbing the hill, 
The ascent before me is yet higher still; 
The footpath is narrow and winding in way, 
I scarcely can finish the journey today. 

The burden I carry is heavy indeed. 

And fain would I tarry for rest that I need; 

But voices are calling for me to ascend. 

And up, though appalling, the journey to end. 

—SO— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I struggle and stumble and fall by the way — 
My footsteps quite often slip on the soft clay; 
Though strength is declining, I dare not to stop. 
For while the sun's shining, I must reach the top. 

Just stumbling and struggling with each step I take, 
Cheered by the spring's bubbling, my soul's thirst to 

slake, 
I'm nearing the haven, the haven of rest, 
I '11 soon end the j ourney and be with the blest. 



CATHERINE EUGENE 

Wee, tender little violet, 

With lovely eyes of blue, 
Like diamonds in a jewel set 

Of purest water, true — 
I catch the innocent sweet beam 

That sparkles in each eye — 
Like summer's chastened evening's gleam 

Upon an azure sky. 

I would thy feet may ever tread 

In paths where flowers blow. 
And though they droop and petals shed — 

May your life sweetly glow. 
May hope in joy's fruition end 

As each year passes by. 
And may your spirit ever blend 

With that of God on high. 

—81— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I PLUCKED A ROSE 

I plucked a rose — 'twas blushing red. 
Like a young bride in bridal bed; 
Its beauty lived a few brief hours, 
Then fading, fell in petal showers. 

The petals lay in beauty there, 
Reminding of the rose so fair; 
But like lost virtue's darkened stain, 
The rose can never bloom again. 

The blushing beauty of its youth 
Was plucked from stem without a ruth; 
Now, like a maid who gave her all. 
The leaves are tramped on as they fall. 

The odor sweet that once was there 

No longer scents the evening air; 

But like a corpse, its petals pale. 

Have lost their strength and now are stale. 

Just so, sweet maid with beauty's eye — 
The loss of virtue is to die; 
To trust too much to men on earth, 
Will make you curse the day of birth. 



-32— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



YOU WILL FIND A FEW MASONS THERE 

From the cold, distant land of Arctic zone, 

Where the bleak winds ever do sigh and moan — 

From far away Afric's hot bleaching sand, 

Where the sons of Ham inhabit the land — 

From the tropical clime of Mexico, 

Where the warm gulf stream doth ever flow — 

From the tangled thicket of Amazon, 

Where the great, great river doth ever run — 

From the east to the west, from the north to the south. 

In the land of rain, or the land of drouth — 

Where the sunshine beams or the zephyrs blow, 

Or ever is seen perpetual snow — 

Where flowers bloom in perpetual spring, 

Or blighted is beauty with icy sting — 

Or song birds singing with every breath. 

Or on the desert as silent as death — 

Among all the races of this old earth, 

From the breath of God that was given birth — 

Be they white, or yellow, or black or red, 

With palace or tent, or tree overhead — 

You will always find a few Masons there. 

Who meet upon the level, and part upon the square. 



'TIS BEST 

'Tis best to bathe in all the gleams 

Of sunny joys on earth — 
To catch the golden happy beams, 

As they are given birth. 

—S3- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The heart that makes the face to smile 

Is an inheritance — 
That will all gloomy thoughts beguile, 

And happiness enhance. 

Each sunny beam of golden sheen 

Gives pleasure to the eye, 
But as dark clouds shift in between, 

The heart emits a sigh. 

Though transient is each sunny ray, 

'Tis best to count it gain; 
Tomorrow, clouds may spread our way. 

And fill the heart with pain. 



TINKLING OF THE ICE 

Did you ever hear the tinkling 

Of the ice in times that's past — 
When your throat was simply parching 

Like a redhot furnace blast? 
Oh, the music is entrancing 

As you hear the cold ice clink — 
And you almost feel like dancing 

As you greedy grab and drink. 

Oh, the joy, delicious pleasure, 

When you press it to your lips — 
And enjoyment without measure 

Feel, when down your throat it slips; 
How it gurgles in its journey 

As it cools the fevered breast. 
And you turn upon your pillow. 

Feeling that you have been blest. 
-34— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Oh, I tell you, for enjoyment^ 

When you've been the merry round — 
On the night, when for employment, 

Such a jolly crowd you found — 
That the greatest of all pleasure, 

Is not found in sin and vice — 
But it's just a glass of water, 

With a piece or two of ice. 

Oh, you may despise the water 

When the whiskey is around — 
But by daylight the next morning. 

For ice water you'll be bound; 
And you '11 press the button roughly 

With the call for water boy — 
And the echo of his footsteps. 

Will just fill you full of joy. 

Then you'll lie with misty feeling. 

While the webs within you weave — 
And remorse o'er conscience stealing — 

Though half drunk, will make you grieve 
And you'll swear in drunken sorrow. 

That you'll cut the habit out — 
And forget before the morrow — 

To indulge another bout. 

Yet there's joy, though it is harmful. 
On most any pleasant night — 

With a lot of jolly fellows. 

While old barleycorn's in sisht — 



—35— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Just to sit around a table. 

Pass the bottle to and fro — 

And take a drink for Auld Lang Syne, 
To the friends you used to know. 

Oh, congenial is the hour, 

Though the pleasure does not last — 
For by daylight you'll be sour — 

Then you will regret the past; 
Oh, 'tis then you'll call for water. 

And you'll hurry up the boy. 
And the echo of his footsteps 

Will just fill your soul with joy. 



OH, THE JOY OF SPREADING 

Oh, the joy of spreading sunshine 

In the pathway of this life; 
To drop a love word here and there, 

To grow in beauty rife; 
To make some saddened heart to smih 

Forgetting all the strife — 
Some deed or word that may beguile. 

And brighten up a life. 



— 36- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



WHERE SWEET WATERS FLOW 

I long for the pleasure 

Of sweet restful peace — 
The calm, joyful measure 

Of freedom and ease; 
To lie in sweet rapture, 

'Neath shade of the trees — 
Where beauty doth capture. 

And bloweth the breeze. 

To lie silent dreaming 

Where sweet waters flow. 
And sunshine is beaming 

With radiant glow; 
To drift with the sunshine. 

Soft sinking in west — 
Like an angel divine. 

Preparing to rest. 

To scent the sweet showers 

Of life-giving dew. 
While sheltered by bowers 

Of nature's green hue; 
To hear the soft sighing 

Of wind in the trees. 
While autumn leaves, dying. 

Float out on the breeze. 

To hear the sweet purling 
Of streamlets that flow. 

All dashing and curling. 
As onward they go. 



—37- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



My thoughts ever drifting 
With each flowing wave, 

Where shadows are shifting 
On waters that lave. 

Oh, give me the pleasures 

And freedom from care — 
'Midst old nature's treasures, 

And beauties so rare; 
Just let me lie dreaming 

Beneath the green trees, 
With loving thoughts teeming, 

And heart at its ease. 



SOON WILL COME 

Soon will come the twilight evening 
When the call to me shall come. 

And my soul — with its sweet sheening — 
Will ascend to its last home. 

Will the veil, to future screening. 

Then be parted to my view? 
All the mystery's true meaning. 

That in life I never knew ? 

Will its glory, all revealing, 

Swell my heart with triumph's song? 
Or, still mystery concealing — 

Yet my anxious heart prolong ! 



—38— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Will it be an awesome glory 

Thund'ring echoes through the skies? 
Or, the gladsome sweet old story 

Of the Christ, who did arise ! 

Shall a hallelujah sounding, 

Greet me with an angel throng? 

Or amongst great billows, bounding. 
Shall my soul just float along! 

I would fain to know the meaning. 

Whether it be joy or woe — 
Ere the twilight's last soft gleaming 

Folds my soul in its sweet glow. 



TO FRIENDS UNKNOWN 

Have you ever read a letter 

From some stranger far away — 
Who said he'd read your poem. 

Published in the news that day? 
That it filled his heart with gladness — 

And for you he'd ever pray, 
For it drove away his sadness — 

Though he was aged and gray! 

Do you know the joy it gave you 

As you read the letter through? 
How it made you love the writer — 

For he seemed so good and true ! 

—39- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



How your heart went out toward him — 

And you felt as if you knew 
The very thoughts that filled him^ 

As he wrote the words to you. 

How it filled your heart with pleasure 

As you read it o'er and o'er! 
For your joy was without measure — 

And you read it just once more! 
And you read it to your loved ones, 

And then watched them o'er it pore — 
Then filed that letter safe away 

'Mongst your other precious store. 

Oh, the joy that it may give you 

In the twilight of your life; 
When your heart is full of grieving — 

Sore and sick with mortal strife — 
Just to rummage 'mongst your precious store 

And find a beauty rife, 
In the loving words addressed to you — 

It may brighten up your life. 



OH, LITTLE MAID 

Oh, little maid with eyes of blue, 
Why pensive now and sad.^ 

Your laddie's heart is true to you, 
And this should make you glad. 



-40— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



What though he danced with other girls, 

And scarcely glanced at you! 
Your lovely face and head of curls 

Was ever in his view. 

He's crowned you queen within his heart, 

And every beat is true; 
He suffers from a jealous dart — 

You danced with others, too. 

Then smile, sweet maid with love-lit eyes, 

And dart a glance his way; 
Your heart will throb with glad surprise — 

For he'll return that day! 



A TRICKLING, TINY SPRING 

A trickling, tiny little spring, 
Down mountain side doth flow and sing. 
It winds around the rocks and roots, 
And over many a cascade shoots. 

In softest accents sweet and clear, 
It sings a song of hope and cheer; 
The birds take up the rythmic notes. 
And music swells from gushing throats. 

Along its banks of verdant green, 
Full many a bud and bloom is seen. 
While reed and brush and waving rush. 
Puts all the art of man to blush. 



—41— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

In valleys green^ 'neath mountain's side, 
Forever flows the tiny tide — 
Its golden bosom flashing gleams 
Of pearly crystals through sunbeams. 

I love to lie and drift and dream, 
And listen to the little stream, 
As on it goes meandering 
With rythmic, low, sweet murmuring. 

It softly sighs with balmy breeze, 
And joins its voice with swaying trees; 
While I lie silent, driftinjoj on 
To dreamv lands ^^ ipicfv d-^w^. 



MY OLD BLACK MAMMY 

How well I remember 

When I was a child. 
My dear old black mammy, 

So gentle and mild. 
I see the bandana 

That covered her head. 
As kindly she tucked me 

To sleep in my bed. 

Her face, though a black one, 
Just filled you with love; 

For true was the heart beats 
That came from above; 



-42- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Her arms ever ready 

To gather me in, 
To steady when stumbling, 

And keep me from sin. 

In sickness and sorrow, 

Old mammy was there. 
Just like a dear angel 

In answer to prayer. 
'Twas comfort to see her 

In such times of need, 
For mammy would heal you. 

And cheerfulness breed. 

At calling of country — 

And father obeyed — 
Old mammy was true blue. 

And with mother stayed. 
In silence of midnight. 

When hearts beat with dread- 
Old mammy would hover, 

And watch 'round our bed. 

Her comforting presence 

Would calm us to sleep — 
For mammy was right there, 

To guard and to keep. 
She watched o'er our slumbers 

With sweet, loving care, 
And cheered my dear mother 

When filled with despair. 



—43- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I know she's in heaven, 

And free from all care; 
Her face, though a black one, 

Is beautiful there — 
For Jesus, the dear Lord, 

Just views the inside, 
And draws near the kind heart. 

Where love doth abide. 

She's waiting in glory 

With those gone before, 
To welcome her laddie 

To that blessed shore; 
I know when the time comes 

For me to ascend — 
Old mammy will be there — 

My needs to attend. 



RETROSPECT 

Tonight I sit in grievous thought. 
Reviewing what my life has wrought; 
Like writings that Belshazzar saw — 
The backward glance fills me with awe. 

In balancing the good with bad, 
The trial sheet makes me feel sad; 
For as the good is credited 
So are the bad things debited. 



—44— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The debit sheet is very long, 
And shows the things that I Ve done wrong ; 
While here and there's a heavy stroke, 
To indicate the hearts I've broke. 

The strokes are light where I've done good, 
Because I failed in what I should; 
The debit side's a heavy cross — 
I've charged it off to profit's loss. 

The loss I never can regain; 
I cannot take back things that pain — 
For even though I made amend, 
The sheet still shows I lost a friend. 



ALL THE LITTLE BIRDS ARE SINGING 

All the little birds are singing, 

Singing a sweet melody, 
.\nd the hills and dales are ringing. 

Ringing with the jubilee. 

Buds and blossoms all are swelling. 

Bursting into beauty rare; 
'Midst old nature's garden dwelling, 

Many are the flowers fair. 

Trickling streams are gently flowing, 
Flowing near the mountain sides. 

And the sunshine cause a glowing. 
Golden glowing on the tides. 



-45— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Gentle zephyrs softly blowing. 
Fanning all the valley green; 

Spring sunshine instead of snowing, 
Glinting with a lovely sheen. 

In the distance, lofty mountains 
Reaching up toward the skies; 

Down the side flow raging fountains, 
Causing misty clouds to rise. 

Golden glints through them are streaming 
With a rainbow's tinting hue, 

All the colors softly beaming 
With a tint of lovely blue. 

Overhead the trees are greening. 
And the birds are nesting there; 

Soon their young they will be weaning, 
And their songs will fill the air. 

Underneath the trees I'm dreaming. 
While sweet music fills the air; 

And my soul with love is teeming. 
For I 'm full of heartfelt prayer. 



CRITICISM 

You've bruised and stabbed my tender heart. 

And lowered its conceit 
By criticism's cruel dart, 

And smothered it complete. 

46— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



OPTIMISM 

I cannot pierce the distant veil of time. 

Nor can I tell what future years may bring; 

I joy in present things that seem sublime, 
And with contented happiness I sing. 

I cannot change the things that God ordains, 
Nor will resentment make my burdens less; 

If He has willed that I should suffer pains, 
He also wills some other things that bless. 

Each day, I see more plainly the great truth. 
That God, in wisdom doeth all things best; 

He checks the impulses of man in youth. 
That in his elder days, he may be blest. 

To youth, all future years are full of hope. 
Nor dims an azure sky to distant view; 

Bright, pictures all the future horoscope, 
And all seems beautiful, and good, and true. 

To age, the future years loom not so bright. 

For past old ghostly fears are frightful still — 

The disillusions of youth's dreams cause fright, 
And fearsome doubts, the aged heart doth thrill. 

But when resigned, we trust it all to God — 
Both age and youth are on a level plane; 

And to the end, when melted into clod, 

What now seems loss, will only prove our gain. 



-47— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



SWEET THINGS 

I can write of sweet things, too, 
Like the violet so blue; 
Tell you how in woods they grow, 
Peeping out with spring's first glow; 
Tell you lovers gather them, 
Plucking up the roots with stem, 
Placing them with tender care 
In a vase of costly ware. 

Ah, the tint of lovely blue, 
Freshed by early morning's dew — 
Fills the lover with a bliss 
Like the ecstacy of a kiss. 
Delicate as a maiden's flush. 
Tender as her first love blush; 
Melting like a flake of snow 
With the warmth of its own glow. 

In the likeness of its hue. 
Are her eyes of tender blue. 
Shyly peeping 'neath the lash. 
Love betraying in each flash; 
There's a darling dimple, too. 
In the cheek that's turned to you, 
And sweet cherry lips of bliss. 
Aye, inviting for a kiss. 

Here's a cluster on a vine — 
Grapes all full of juicy wine. 
Jocund as a maiden's blood 
In first flush of womanhood; 



—48— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Here's an apple red with glow, 
Rip'ning where the blossoms blow; 
Robin, on the cherry tree, 
To his mate sings merrily. 

Little rills and singing brooks. 
Mossy dells and pleasant nooks. 
Valleys green and flowery dales, 
Time of year when spring regales, 
Birds all singing in the trees. 
Balmy air and busy bees — 
I can write of sweet things, too. 
And I have — now, say, can't you? 

I'VE WANDERED MUCH 

I've wandered much from land to land, 

A-seeking for prosperity; 
And still I live from hand to hand. 

But care naught for adversity. 

Distance, enchantment lends to view. 

Where flowers all bloom gaily; 
And freshened by hope's morning dew, 

I change domicile daily. 

Yet, reimbursement I receive. 

That fully doth repay me; 
The change of scenes and hopes that weave 

In beauty, ever sways me. 

Sometimes in valleys I reside. 
Then on the hills and mountains. 

Just drifting careless with the tide 
Of thoughtless human fountains. 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



PINNED TO A DOLL RAFFLED FOR ORPHANS 

God is ever a true lover — 

Loves through other folks^ you know; 

Sends his angels down to hover. 
And make little faces glow. 

In this world He's planted kindness, 

That the seed may ever grow, 
Though at times it seems all blindness, 

Yet sweet blessings ever flow. 

Hearts of love are ever ready 

A sweet blessing to bestow ; 
Just believe and stand you steady — 

God is watching you below. 

God is father, God is mother. 

And through others He will care; 

In his arms He'll love and smother. 
If you will but snuggle there. 

May this doll both bless and cheer you — 

Give it love and tender care; 
Ever keep it close and near you — 

Smile each day and grow more fair. 



LIVES THERE A MAN? 

Lives there a man on this old earth, 
A real true man of noble worth? 
A man that's always true and square — 
In all his dealings clean and fair? 

—50— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



A man, to golden rule, sincere, 
Who feels within a conscience clear? 
Who strikes a chalk line true and straight. 
And will not from it deviate? 

Is such a man amongst the great — 

Receiving honors from the State? 

Does honest conscience rule his mind. 

Or wealth, through graft, just make him blind? 

Does the best good for humankind 
Encourage him to seek and find 
Some just law that may govern all — 
The poor and low, the rich and tall ? 

Is such an one amongst the poor 
That passes daily by your door. 
Who gives an honest full day's work, 
Who never does his labor shirk? 

Is such amongst the middle class. 
Who, by the golden rule, can pass? 
Who, honest in his heart, can say, 
I'm clean and fair in every way? 

Is there amongst the ministry 
One heart that's full of charity? 
One heart that equals rich and poor. 
And levels both at his church door? 

Oh, show me just one man on earth 
Possessed of true and noble worth; 
One man that's always true and square 
In all his dealings, r-lean and fair. 



—51 — 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I LIFT MY HEART 

I lift my heart to Thee, oh God, 
Amidst the mountains of Thy love; 

Where nature's green o'erlays the sod, 
Refreshed by showers from above. 

Eternal blessings ever flow 

From the great fountains of Thy heart, 
Like many waters, sweet and low, 

To quench the thirst of panting hart. 

The beauty that is spread to view 
From every lofty mountain peak. 

The valleys green, and skies of blue, 
Of Thy great love doth ever speak. 

Oh, what is man, that Thou dost care 
To count the hairs of his poor head, 

And lift him from his dark despair, 
And raise his body from the dead? 

'Tis said Thou knowest our poor frame ; 

That we are naught but grains of sand — 
That we are born in sin and shame. 

And cannot in Thy presence stand. 

Yet Thou dost love each weak one here, 
Though poor and humble worms of dust- 

And givest to each heart sweet cheer. 
For Thou art kind as well as just. 



—52— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



What wealth can we poor mortals add 
Unto the glory of Thy throne? 

Thou, who art with all glory clad, 

And pow'r to make bread out of stone? 

Oh, love, sweet mystery so great. 

That fills the Father's heart above, 

What is there in poor man's estate 
To justify omniscient love? 

No merit of Thy love have we. 

Nor yet of Him whom Thou didst give 

To lift us from sin's misery, 

That we might ever with Thee live. 

Then help us, Thou Omniscient One, 

To merit the great sacrifice 
Of Jesus Christ, Thine only Son, 

Who dwells with Thee in paradise. 

And when our work on earth is done. 
And twilight glimmers in the west. 

May we go home with sinking sun 
To an eternal land of rest. 



HAS YOUR SHIP COME IN? 

Has your ship come in from the mystic sea. 
That sailed from the harbor so gallantly, 
With the wave of many a God-speed hand. 
On its way to the faraway, dreamy land ? 

— 5S-^ 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



'Twas years ago since it sailed with the tide, 
With hope for its crew, and faith for its guide, 
Yet never a word — though you daily go — 
Is heard from the ship — and your heart throbs so! 

Has it sunk, think you, with all of its crew? 
Been wrecked in the storms that so fiercely blew? 
Or is the brave ship still riding the wave. 
With its crew of hope still valiant and brave? 

Do you still have faith in the ship that sailed 
To the land of dreams, in mystery veiled? 
Or say you just now, as old age bends the form, 
My good ship has foundered — gone down in the 
storm ! 



I STILL HAVE FAITH 

Aye, I still have faith in the ship that sailed 
To the land of dreams, in mystery veiled; 
For my heart still trusts, and I daily go 
To the port where the tide doth ebb and flow. 

Though the storms may beat, and the waves run high, 

Yet behind each cloud is a shining sky; 

And though aged now, I am strong and hale, 

And I hope some day that I'll greet the sail. 

Soon the storm will pass, and the calm will come. 
Then the ship will steer for the harbor, home. 
And I doubt me not, for my faith is bold, 
That it will return with a freight of gold. 

—54— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



TAKE ME BY THE HAND 

Take me by the hand, and lead me 
Through the paths of gloomy night. 

While the shadows darkly hover 
'Twixt me and the fading light. 

Bear me o'er the sullen river. 

Safely to the other shore, 
Where my soul shall rest forever — 

Rest to suffer pain no more. 

Sing sweet songs while floating over. 

Songs, my fainting spirit cheer; 
Let them swell in one grand chorus 

As the other shore we near. 

And, when ended is the journey. 
When we've reached the other side, 

Take me to my blessed Master, 
There forever, to abide. 

FORGOTTEN 

They gave him a stone 

To pillow his head. 
Then left him alone 

To rest with the dead. 

They left him to sleep 

In silence profound. 
Where green grass would creep 

And cover the mound. 

—55— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



A few tears were shed — 

A sob and a moan, 
A torn heart that bled, 

A sigh and a groan. 

A neglected grave, 
A fallen head stone, 

Wild brambles that pave. 
Rank weeds overgrown. 

And sad is the sound 
Of April's rain weep. 

That waters the ground 
Where wild flowers peep. 

The years pass along — 
Joy takes place of grief; 

A shout and a song, 
Ah, memory is brief. 

Forgotten and gone — 

A spirit once gay 
Now waits for the dawn 

Of eternal day. 



THE SALVATION LASSIE 

Oh, there is a winsome lassie, 
Dressed in the plainest blue. 

And her eyes just flashes sunshine 
As she looks straight at you. 



-56- 




A neglected grave, 
A fallen head stone." 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Oh, her cheeks are like the roses. 

All blushing with a glow, 
And her lovely face discloses 

A heart that's pure as snow. 

Oh, she wears the cutest bonnet 

Above her pearly ears. 
And the eyes that peep beneath it 

Dissolves away all tears. 
Oh, her lips are like the berries 

Refreshed by morning dew. 
And her breath is like the cherries 

Of balmy winds own brew. 

Oh, her eyes are like the sunbeams 

That sparkle in the skies. 
So full of tender, loving gleams, 

They fill my heart with sighs. 
Oh, she is the dearest lassie. 

With an air demure and sweet, 
And always full of charity. 

At home or on the street. 



HEARTS THAT BEAT TRUE 

There's many a heart that beats real true 
Beneath a rough exterior view; 
Hearts that are warmer than you may think, 
Although the face shows many a kink. 

ManjT^ a wrinkled and scarred old face 
Within, has a heart of love and grace; 
While many a face that's fair to view. 
Is false at heart and will prove untrue. 

—57- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



ACROSTIC 

May fragrant flowers sweetly blow 

In paths that you may tread; 

Life's sweetness — may it ever glow 

Delightful o'er your head. 

Rich be your future years, my dear, 

Endowed by God on high, 

Denying naught but grief's sad tear 

Bestowed on those who sigh. 

United to the one you love, 

Redeeming pledges made, 

Ne'er lose your trust in God above, 

Each evil thought evade. 

These lines apply to future Irfe — 

Then you will grow in beauty rife. 



MAGNOLIAS BLOOM 

(Tune: Old Kentucky Home) 

Magnolias bloom in my dear old Southern home, 

Sweet odors float out on the breeze; 
The blossoms loom like a marble palace dome, 

'Midst the dark green foliage of the trees. 
The alfalfa, now in carpets of deep green, 

And clover, is spread out to view; 
There's naught to mar, or take from the pleasant scene, 

And the skies overhead are ever blue. 

—58— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The corn top's ripe and the cotton is in bloom, 

The darkies are resting a spell; 
The birds all pipe, and their songs dispel all gloom, 

For they seem a happy time to tell. 
The pale moon gleams with a soft sweet glowing ligl 

The shadows all flit to and fro; 
The soft sweet beams fills the lover with delight, 

While the mock birds cause the heart to glow. 

My heart returns, oh, no matter where I roam. 

Where the mock bird's song fills the air; 
And sadly yearns for the soft sweet Southern gloam. 

And the flowers blooming ever fair. 
Then take me back to my dear old Southern home, 

Where odors float out on the breeze ; 
Where blossoms loom like a marble palace dome 

'Midst the dark green foliage of the trees. 

Chorus 

Take me back to Dixie, 

Oh, take me back, I say; 
For my heart returns to my dear old Southern home, 
To my dear old Southern home, far away. 



THE FAITHFUL FEW 

There's a faithful few who are always true. 

There are warm heart throbs that will welcome you; 

Come, then, in response to this cordial call. 

There's a grip of the hand for one and all. 

-59— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



A DRIVE ALONG A COUNTRY ROAD 

I was in an open buggy, driving 'long a country road, 

Enjoying all the scenery, where nature old abode; 

The sun was shining brightly and the flowers were in 

bloom, 
The trees with dark green foliage were full of birds 

and plume. 

The air was filled with music, both of birds and busy 

bees, 
While squirrels darted here and there among the leafy 

trees ; 
The dogwood was in blossom and the honeysuckle, too, 
And lovely was the scenery presented to my view. 



The cows were browsing lazily upon the carpet green, 
While here and there, a-peeping out, a daisy could be 

seen; 
A crumbling old log cabin, with the roof all caving in. 
The chimney built of mud and sticks, showed where man 

once had been. 

A winding path amid the bush led downward to a spring, 
Where many parched thirsts were quenched, while birds 

o'erhead did sing; 
An old deserted orchard, and a house in distant view. 
That called to mind your childhood days, as back your 

memory flew. 



—60- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The cedar and the myrtle trees were there, all full of 

bloom. 
But, ah, so quiet was the place it filled you with its 

gloom ; 
You saw as in some flimsy dream your mother's smiling 

face, 
When all about was full of life, and children filled the 

place. 

You saw the table laden down with much of goodly store. 
And heard your little brother Tom a-crying for some 

more; 
You thought of him, the godly man, who had the church 

near by, 
Who warned the people of their sins and often made 

you cry. 

You called to mind when he dropped in, and stayed for 

dinner, too. 
When all you children had to wait — it made you awful 

blue. 
How mother, knowing how you felt and fearful of your 

cry, 
Came out the side door with a plate just brimming full 

of pie. 

Oh, how it stirred your memory and called back to your 

mind 
The sweet old days of childhood, when things seem -d 

good and kind; 
When mother tucked your in your bed and fondly kissed 

good night 
And smiling, said, "Have pleasant dreams," as she put 

out the light. 

—61— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Oh, that I could old time turn back and be a child again, 
That I might, in my mother's arms, find soothing for 

all pain; 
That I might pillow on her breast this aching head of 

mine, 
While 'round my hungry, yearning form her arms would 

me entwine. 



THERE NEVER WAS 

There never was a picture 

That was drawn by human hands, 

As pretty as old nature — 
Just as old nature stands. 

For God created nature 
According to His plan; 

No art can e'er improve it. 
Wrought by the skill of man. 

Man imitates sweet roses. 
And imitates them well; 

But weak, his art discloses, 
He cannot make them smell. 

Though somewhat like its petals 
Of glowing beauty rife, 

'Tis but a dead leaf painted — 
He cannot give ONE life. 

—62— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



IF WE COULD ONLY TRUST 

If we could only wholly trust 

And rid our hearts of fear, 
And realize that God is just, 

His promises sincere; 
That His dear hand is stretching out 

To draw us to His breast — 
We'd leap with joy, and sing and shout. 

As close to Him we pressed. 



WHEN I WAS A BOY 

When I was a boy. 

Oh, when I was a boy ! 
The earth was all green. 

And this life was a joy. 
My footsteps were light 

And the sky ever bright; 
I whistled and sang 

With a joyous delight. 

When I was a boy. 

Oh, the pleasure and joy 
To ramble the woods. 

With naught to annoy; 
To wade in the streams 

And dream boyish dreams. 
And drink in the rays 

Of spring's sunny beams. 



^-63— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



When I was a boy. 

Oh, the streams would decoy, 
And whisper a song — 

Come now and enjoy. 
My bosom is sweet, 

Your form I will greet, 
And give you the joy 

Of a heavenly treat. 

When I was a boy. 

Oh, the springtime of joy! 
The pleasure of youth. 

That naught can destroy! 
So happy and free, 

A heart full of glee, . 
That I wish once again 

Just a boy I could be. 



A REVERIE 

Sitting by my fireside, silent, 
Dreamy visions come to me. 

Trooping by in countless numbers. 
And amongst them, friend, is thee. 

Once again I see the waving 

Of the ripn'ning fields of grain, 

And I hear the song birds singing — 
Mocking, after years of pain. 

-64— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



In the distance, hear the voices 
Of the reapers' evening song; 

See the sunset, golden glowing, 
As we slowly walked along. 

See your face, all animated, 
As we spoke of future years — 

Years that seemed all bright and smiling, 
Without griefs or sorrow's tears. 

Sitting here I feel thy presence, 
As the fireside glimmers bright; 

Feel a very present nearness. 

As my soul takes backward flight. 

Mem'ries of sweet childhood teeming. 
Like the rippling of a stream. 

With the murmur of sweet music — 
Fills me with a blissful dream. 

All the buoyant hopes of childhood, 
All the ships that sailed away — 

All the dreams of fairy kingdom. 
Blossomed, only to decay. 

Yet tonight, while silent musing. 
Both of present and of past, 

I'm inclined to think that duty 
Blossoms into joys that last. 



—65- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



We can gather many lessons 

From the dead and withered years; 

Take the best that hope then gave us, 
With our joys, were mingled tears. 

If to duty we are faithful, 

And for value, value give. 
We will find, though faint and weary, 

Hope will in fruition live. 



THEY SENT SWEET FLOWERS 

Though sore affliction laid me low 

And kept me to my room, 
The flowers that so sweetly blow 

Have cheered me with their bloom. 

The loving spirits that impel 

A heart to sympathy, 
Full many sorrows do dispel 

And soothe all misery. 

Oh, dear sweet friends, the lovely flow'rs 
Cheered me with their sweet glow, 

And helped me pass the painful hours 
I had to undergo. 

My heart will ever upward rise 

In grateful gratitude 
To God in love — above the skies — 

Because you were so good. 

■66— 



SONGS FROIM THE OZARKS 



THE SIGHING OF THE WIND 

Did you ever hear the sighing, 
Just like some poor mortal dying, 
Of the wind when it was blowing 
Through a grove of pine trees, growing? 

'Tis a sound of soft, sad wailing, 
Like some spirit, anguished ailing. 
Slowly dying, sadly crying, 
Sobbing, moaning, then defying. 

'Tis a requiem for the dead. 
This sad music overhead. 
And the saddest of all sounds 
That is heard in nature's bounds. 

Oh, the painful sound of moaning. 
Like a million spirits groaning. 
Stirs within your heart a feeling 
That with God you should be kneeling. 

And the sobbing and the sighing, 
As if multitudes were dying. 
Brings upon you a strange creeping. 
Like a ghnst was at you peeping. 

Yet I love to lie at ease, 
Down bene.ith the green pine trees, 
List'ning to the soft, sad sigh, 
Drifting with it, like I 'd die. 



—67— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Now it sinks in dying note, 
Like the choking of the throat; 
Then arise in thimdrous tones 
Shrieks and sobs, then sadly, moans. 

And beneath the pine trees listening, 
In your eyes the tears are glist'ning; 
For in nature God seems talking, 
Wants you with Him to be walking. 

In the language that is spoken 
By the wind that seems heartbroken, 
You will find a greater teacher 
Than you'll find in any preacher. 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 

There's light and shadow here and there 

Amongst the paths of life; 
Dark clouds today — tomorrow fair — 
♦ Here, blossoms; and there, strife. 

Today the sun is shining bright 
With golden rays of hope; 

Tomorrow, clouds of darkest night 
In which we blindly grope. 

Beneath a smile there often lies 
A heart that's full of grief; 

In secret there are sobs and sighs. 
And many a withered leaf. 

—68— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



REST YOU, STRANGER 

Stranger, stop within this bower — 

Rest you here for one short hour; 

Life is filled with light and shadow, 

On the hill top or the meadow; 

Though the sun shines e'er so brightly, ' 

It is ever darkened nightly; 

Alwaj'^s clouds precede the showers 

That refresh the lovely flowers. 

And though roses beauty show. 

Pricking thorns beneath them grow. 

Art thou anxious to be going 
And try life's seed to be sowing? 
Pause, oh, stranger, and be careful — 
Know the harvest's sometimes fearful! 
Though at present good things meaning. 
Dark may be thy future gleaning; 
Many things in life beguiling, 
Only tends to man's defiling, 
And the siren's lustful call 
May turn all your crop to gall. 

Now, though rainbow tints are glowing, 
On the morrow, may be snowing ! 
Though the sun today is thrilling, 
Clouds tomorrow may be chilling; 
Youth at early morn, oh, stranger, 
Seldom think or dream of danger. 
But with careless steps, unseeing, 
Tread a path they should be fleeing; 
Rest you, stranger, rest an hour 
Here beneath this shady bower. 

— 6g- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Pause, oh, stranger, stop your dreaming 
With such i^leasant future teeming; 
Know that life is full of troubles 
And hopes vanish like mere bubbles; 
Know that aspirations winging 
From the heart that now is singing 
To the earth may fall tomorrow, 
Filling this same heart with sorrow; 
Every day, new life beginning, 
Find the same old thread is spinning. 



ETERNITY 

Sailing on the mystic sea, 
Sailing through eternity ; 

Sailing, ever sailing on 

With a never-ending dawn. 

Time hath reigned eternally — 
No Alpha-Omega be — 

Chaos never was begun. 

Always — ever — has time run. 

Sailing, sailing, there's no time 
In eternity's old clime; 

Ne'er exhausted is the sand 
Of eternal ocean's strand. 



-70- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I LOVE TO WANDER O'ER THE HILLS 

I love to wander o'er the hills 

In spring, when all is green; 
And hear the murmur of the rills, 

'Midst nature all serene. 

I love to sit upon the banks 

And watch the streamlets flow; 

And raise to God my silent thanks, 
While inward feelings glow. 

I love the ripple and the splash, 

The murmur of it all. 
As over rocks they twist and dash. 

And down the rapids fall. 

I love to watch the golden glints 

Of colors all a-glow — 
In softest shades of rainbow tints 

That mingle with their flow. 

I love the low sweet song they sing. 

That echoes in the breeze. 
As curling, purling, murmuring, 

They water roots of trees. 

I love to lie in dreamy ease 

And silent drift along. 
Fanned by the gentle evening breeze. 

Lulled by the rythmic song. 



—71— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Ah, happy is the soul that lives 

'Midst nature's solitude, 
Whose every thought and heart beat gives 

A throb of gratitude. 

Who calmly moves 'midst nature's scene, 

Where many flovrers blow, 
Where swelling buds and fragrant green 

Sweet blessings do bestow. 



WHEN THE SUNSET SOFT IS GLOWING 

When the sunset soft is glowing, 
And the western breeze is blowing, 
All my dreamy thoughts go drifting 
Out beyond where clouds are shifting, 
To a land of hope's sweet ending, 
Where fruition's joys are blending. 

Ah, the beauty of its gleaming, 

With a golden color beaming. 

In the horizon, down dipping. 

Like in ocean it was slipping. 

Fills my heart with soft sweet dreaming 

Of a land with angels teeming. 

And the radiant glow, all tinting. 
With a golden color glinting. 
Seems to demonstrate the story 
Of the mansions full of glory; 
And a joyous time foretelling 
When with God I shall be dwelling. 

-72— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



JOHN WILLIAM HEAD, JR. 

Ring out^ ring out, ye bells, and shout. 

For all is joy and love; 
A tender, lovely little sprout, 

Has come from heav'n above. 
God saw two lonely hearts that bled. 

And in each eye a tear — 
So He just sent John William Head 

To comfort and to cheer. 



YOU ASK ME.?" 

You ask me why a cloud of shade 

Doth ever o'er me spread. 
And why my face, deep interlaid, 

Shows that sweet joys have fled.'' 
In early days of ardent youth, 

I felt me full of cheer; 
I thought the world was full of truth, 

All goodness and sincere. 

Just full of confidence and love 

I wended on my way; 
Each beat of heart was raised above. 

And sunny was each day. 
The birds all sang so sweetly then. 

The flowers bloomed so fair; 
I thought me naught but good of men — 

My heart was free from care. 

—73— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Each day bloomed into new-born hope, 

And each day was a smile; 
Bright pictured all the horoscope 

With beauty to beguile. 
The streams all sang so merrily, 

My heart throbbed with delight; 
And, ah, I wended cheerily 

And sang both day and night. 

But as the years passed swiftly by. 

The withered leaves fell down 
At call of autumn's mournful sigh, 

And turned all sere and brown. 
The flowers once that bloomed so fair 

No longer beauty shed. 
But 'mongst the dead leaves lying there 

Seemed whispering, hope is dead. 

The frost of winter nipped the bud 

And chilled the balmy air, 
And froze my ardent, youthful blood. 

And killed hope with despair. 
It left me all alone to grope 

Amidst old nature bare. 
All disillusioned, without hope,. 

And full of grief and care. 



ROBIN RED BREAST 

Oh, robin, sing your lays, 
I've never heard you sing; 

But Lowell speaks your praise, 
As on the way you wing. 

—74— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



"VViien cold the winters blow 
And north is bleak and bare, 

And driving sleet and snow 
Makes icy cold the air — 

You spread your wings and fly 

To where the roses blow, 
To sunny Southern sky, 

And evening's golden glow. 

There, you are mute and still. 
For king of songsters sing; 

The mocking bird's sweet trill 
Just makes you droop your wing. 

Yet I would not despise 

Thy humble little note. 
Should songs of thine arise 

And on the breezes float. 

God made the lovely rose. 

He also made the weed 
And everything that grows, 

And each one fills a need. 

We cannot all be king. 

But we can fill our place, 

And each of us can sing 
With happy, smiling face. 

Oh, robin, robin dear, 

I love you, dear sweet bird, 

And welcome you each year. 

Though your song I Ve never heard. 



-75- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



A WHITE ROSE 

Today a white rose 
Doth gently repose 
On my aching breast 
To soothe its unrest. 
For mother 'tis worn. 
Though I am forlorn, 
Her dear face I see 
In sweet memory. 
She's now in repose, 
And many a rose 
Blooms over her grave 
And borders the pave. 
And oft from the stem 
I pluck one of them, 
To wear o'er my heart 
To soothe it in part. 
Oh, white diadem 
Of roses, the gem, 
An emblem discreet 
Of purity sweet. 
Bloom over, this day, 
Her cold bed of clay, 
And over her head 
A canopy spread 



-76- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Of petals of white. 
To chase away night. 
Let each flower blend. 
In beauty transcend, 
To make the spot fair, 
Without a compare, 
For my mother 
Is resting there. 



A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE POEM, YOU SAY? 

A beautiful little poem, you say? 
Composed by one who has passed away; 
The words so beautiful to the ear. 
That in your album you placed it here? 

No wording that I have ever known 
Can equal the music, by winds blown. 
Nor any that I have ever heard. 
Compare in melody to a bird. 

The gurgling music of one small brook. 

Is sweeter than words in any book; 

To gaze upon a beautiful rose 

Gives greater pleasure than verse or prose. 

Man has invented many an art; 
To make life pleasant, has taken part; 
But God made nature, just as you see — 
It can't be improved by you and me. 



-77- 



SONGS FROIM THE OZARKS 



A FADED LEAF 

'Tis but a faded leaf 

Has left its impress here, 

Yet fills my heart with grief 
For one I still hold dear. 

'Twas forty years ago 

Since first she placed it here; 
She was in youth's young glow^ 

And gave her love sincere. 

The years passed on and on, 
Forgotten was the leaf; 

But after she was gone 
I found it in my grief. 

'Twas crumpled with its age, 
But left the impress still 

Upon the open page, 

And gave my heart a thrill. 

I pressed the impress there, 
Upon my quivering lips ; 

My heart, so full of care, 

Throbbed with spasmodic grips. 

Swift back my mem'ry flew 
As I sat grieving there, 

A retrospective view 
I took, in my despair. 



-78- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I thought of her sweet ways, 
Her welcome, cheery kiss; 

Of happy olden days 

When life seemed full of bliss. 

I thought of her first born, 
Whose features I could trace; 

Each breaking of the morn, 
Her mother's darling face. 

Of happy days sped by. 
When she was by my side ; 

Of joy in earth and sky. 
When she became my bride. 

Then dark became the cloud. 

When two pale forms lay there; 

I bought a double shroud 
To dress my darlings fair. 

Then a white marble stone 

Was placed between two graves, 

And I was left alone 

To sadly grieve and rave. 

The years passed on and on. 
My grief I did controll, 

And yet each breaking dawn 
They communed with my soul. 

I've left a vacant space 

Where shortly, side by side, 

My body friends will place 

Close by my sweet young bride. 



-79— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



And when the trumpets sound 
And angels fill the air, 

I'll answer with a bound 

And meet my darlings there. 

My hair's now white as snow, 
My form is bent with age, 

Now soon to them I'll go — 
I've reached the seventh stage. 

I'll close the book with care, 
The impress I will leave. 

If others find it here. 

Pray for me do not grieve. 

For I'll be gone above 

To where there is no grief. 

Where all is joy and love. 

And there's no withered leaf. 



I CANNOT SING 

I cannot sing a song tonight, 
The harp is out of tone, 

And will not swell to lofty height, 
But breaks down with a moan. 

I am so full of worldly care. 
So burdened with the load 

My very soul seems to despair. 
And rugged seems the road. 

-80— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I Ve labored nearly three-score years, 
I 'm bending now with age ; 

I Ve shed some bitter scalding tears 
In reading my life's page. 

In glancing backward at the sheet 

I'm startled at the sight, 
And though repentance is complete, 

'Tis no relief tonight. 

I sit me here in gloomy thought 
While sighs well from my heart, 

And dwell on evil things I've wrought. 
While conscience pain doth smart. 

Oh, thou who readest all a-right. 
Whose wisdom knoweth well 

Temptations that we have to fight 
To keep us out of hell — 

Wilt thou with mercy deign to show 

Me, just a little light. 
As through the darkened paths I go. 

With devils all to fight? 

Be thou the staff to comfort me — 
Come in my heart tonight", 

And let me feel thy company, 
My darkened soul to light. 



-81- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



THEY COLDLY PASS ME BY 

Once men bowed humbly at my feet 
And plead for just one smile^ 

Now they pass by me on the street, 
Although one made me vile. 

First blush of love, I gave my all 

To one I thought sincere, 
And now I suffer bitter gall 

From taunt and scornful sneer. 

Avoiding are the eyes I meet 

From those I once held dear 
Not one of them will kindly greet, 

But from me coldly sheer. 

Forced from my happy childhood's home 
By all my loved one's scorn, 

I'm forced 'midst sinful things to roam- 
Heartbroken and forlorn. 

He who was cause of my downfall. 

Who promised me so fair. 
Still on my girlhood friends do call, 

And they seem not to care. 

They greet him with a kindly smile — 

For me — a chilling stare 
Although 'twas he that made me vile 

And filled me with despair. 



—82- 



> } 



SONGS FROIM THE OZARKS 



On holy land Christ wrote on sand, 
Let him first throw the stone 

Who never sinned like Mary, and 
Lo ! they were left alone ! 

None say to me, ''Go, sin no more, 

But lower try to shove; 
Not e'en Christ's followers implore 

To lift my soul above. 

I do not sin from choice or lust — 

I merely yield to fate; 
The life I live fills with disgust 

And all of it I hate. 

I cannot raise myself alone — 

Each day I bitter sigh, 
P'or each one casts at me a stone 

And coldly pass me by. 

Does pity ever stir your heart 

For fallen women, friend? 
If so, then come and do your part 

And help me life amend. 

You all have mothers, this I know — 
And some have sisters, too, 

And some of them may fall also, 

And shake you through and through. 

There 'd be none fallen but for men, 
And this joii know is true; 

They once were innocent, you ken — 
Still would be, but for you. 



—83— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



On Judgment Day^ before God's throne^ 
You'll learn the truth at last 

That in His judgment, sex's unknown, 
And He'll reveal j^our past. 

Then give me just one kindly glance 

To help to better way; 
Forgive the past and give me chance, 

Don't pass me by today. 



GOD STOOD UPON 

God stood upon the summit's height 

And beckoned me, come up ; 
I gazed with rapture on the sight. 

And joy was in my cup. 

The mountain's side was steep and bare. 
My feet were bruised and sore; 

Rough stones were scattered here and there, 
Bespeaking pain in store. 

Yet with His glory there in sight 

I started up the side, 
With hope to guide my feet a-right. 

And faith to over-ride. 

I slipped and stumbled on the way 

And often fell full length; 
But hope just cheered me, day by day, 

And faith still gave me strength. 



—84— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The ascent steeper grew each day, 
And rougher seemed the road; 

But ever hope cheered on the way. 
And faith made light the load. 

At last I reached the very place 
Where last I saw Him stand; 

And though I could not see His face, 
By faith, I grasped His hand. 

Hope, in fruition ended here. 
And faith was lost in sight; 

No longer had I pain or fear — 
God filled my soul with light. 



A SPIRIT OF LOVE 

I\Iay my life breathe forth a spirit of love, 
Enlivened with power born from above; 
And may my light shine with such radiant glow 
That many may seek salvation to know. 

^lay my life — not my words — preach sermons each day. 
That will live through ages, forever and aye; 
And may each sermon prove a beacon of light. 
To lift up the fallen, and make their paths bright. 

Oh, write me down, then, as a lover of men, 
A heart full of love, shining out from within; 
And when at the last I am called to ascend. 
May I leave behind me full many a friend. 

—85— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



A DREAM 

Last night, while silence reigned supreme, 
There came to me the sweetest dream 
Of angels gathered 'romid my bed, 
Who o'er my couch sweet incense spread. 

They were not friends who'd gone before 
To dwell upon the other shore. 
But were just angels, dressed in white. 
Surrounded by a wondrous light. 

Their voices sounded like sweet bells 
That on the Easter morning tells 
Of birth of Jesus, Lord of x\ll, 
Before whom we should prostrate fall. 

A soft, sweet music seemed to fill. 
Like gurgling waters in a rill — 
Their snow-white robes of dazzling bright. 
And floated out upon the night. 

In each sweet feature I could trace 
Resemblance to the dear Lord's face; 
And each sweet face, a healing balm, 
Each spoken word, a sweet old Psalm. 

In rapture gazed I wuth delight, 
For wondrous was the heavenly sight; 
E'en to describe fills with despair. 
For human words would but impair. 



—86— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The wak'ning dawn dispelled the dream, 
But from the east there came a gleam 
Of golden sunshine o'er the hill, 
That gave my heart a soft sweet thrill. 

It seemed a messenger just sent 
To fill my heart with sweet content, 
For every radiant glist'ning beam, 
Reminded me of my sweet dream. 



HOPE WITHOUT JUDGMENT 

Hope without judgment counts but naught 

In this old world of ours, 
For nothing comes to us unsought, 

Though we may picture flowers. 

It never in fruition ends 

Without an effort's made, 
To do the things that mostly tends 

Sweet fortune to persuade. 

'Tis simply childish to believe 

That good things come by chance; 

And fortune's favors we receive. 
Though we but idly dance. 



-87— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



'Tis best that optimistic hope 
Should dwell within the breast, 

To picture all the future scope 
In colors of the best. 

That we might joyous 'ticipate 

The future years to come, 
And not our feelings agitate 

With pessimistic glum. 

But hope that makes the heart aspire 

To nobler things attain, 
Is something that will sure require 

Both industry and brain. 

Then let us judgment with hope blend 

And do our very best. 
That hope may in fruition end — 

Then trust God with the rest. 



MAN'S NOBLEST THOUGHTS 

Man's noblest thoughts are mostly born 

When quietude steals o'er his soul; 
'Midst nature's haunts at early morn, 

Where balms abound that do console. 
There he can lift his soul above 

A sordid world of sin and greed, 
And 'midst the simple things of love 

Find something better far, than creed. 



—88— 



SONGS fro:m the ozarks 



HOW STANDS THE BALLOT 

Dark in the south 

(The voice was low) ; 
Dark in the west 

('Twas spoken slow). 
Dark in the east^ the Master said, 
And slowly, sadly, shook his head. 



All was silent — 
A dismal pall 
Seemed to settle 
Upon them all. 
The secretary's head was bent 
In absolute astonishment. 



Then to his feet 

A man arose, 
With quiet air 
And noble pose, 
And said, brethren, what has been done. 
Affects my loved and only son. 



While this is true 

Be ye not grieved. 
For if he's wronged. 
Don't be deceived — 
The man who acts from spite or hate. 
Will in the end be desolate. 



—89— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



It may not be 

In spite or hate 
The ball was cast. 
I hesitate 
To lay a charge that's so severe 
On any brother Mason here.. 

My son is young 

And may have sown 
Some sinful seed. 
To me unknown; 
And if he should unworthy be. 
Then, after all, 'tis best, you see. 

'Tis true this pains — 

My heart it hurts; 
But if he's false, 
'Tis his deserts 
And he must suffer for his sin; 
'Twould be but proper discipline. 

But if he's true. 

As men should be. 
Then God will help 
Both him and me 
To bear up bravely to the end, 
And soon or late the wrong amend. 

The lodge was closed 

The usual way ; 
A father's heart 

Was stabbed that day. 
Who cast the ball? They never knew- 
The boy was noble, good and true. 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



AN ANGEL GUARDS 

An angel guards my path through life, 

No matter where I roam; 
All through this world of grief and strife, 

On land or on the foam. 

No matter where I pillow head, 

I find the angel there 
Prepared before, the softest bed, 

Though it be but a lair. 

And there I sleep this tenement — 

This tenement of clay — 
Until all weariness is spent 

And dawns another day. 

I envy not the wealth I see. 

For greater wealth in store 
The angel has prepared for me. 

Upon the other shore. 

My heart is full of sweet content, 

I calmly drift along; 
My soul is with God's spirit blent 

And fills me full of song. 

He doth my sorrows all dispel. 

He leadeth by the hand; 
Some day in heaven I shall dwell 

And with the angel stand. 



—91- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



MUSING 

In the twilight's soft'ning glow, 
Shadows flitting to and fro, 
Arched the skies like palace dome, 
Frescoed with a flowery foam; 
Twinkling stars in clustering crowd, 
With a beauty God endowed, 
Angels floating in the clouds. 
Streaming out their pure white shrouds- 
Birds all singing sweet and low 
Where wild flowers, many blow; 
In the soft sweet Southern gloam 
Like a lover I will roam. 
For emotion sweetly flows 
As the evening twilight glows. 



THERE'S A PLEASANT LITTLE BOWER 

There's a pleasant little bower 

Where I go at twilight hour, 

Just to spend a few sweet moments all alone; 

There the trailing vine and flower, 

'Midst the trees that upward tower. 

Lifts my heart above to God in heav'nly zone. 

There I lie in silence dreaming, 

While my heart with love is beaming, 

And sweet memory flies backward on the wing; 

For my mind with visions teeming 

Sees dear faces all a-gleaming, 

And my heart returns to youthful days o' spring. 

—92— 



SONGS FROxM THE OZARKS 



Oh, the joyous, youthful pleasure 

That the heart will ever treasure, 

In the sweet old days of childhood long ago ; 

When in times of sweetest leisure. 

Full of 'joyment without measure. 

All our hearts with ardent love did sweetly glow. 

But the years pass on and sever 

Ties that will come back, no, never ; 

But in memory those ties are buried deep; 

And though cold and distant, ever. 

In your heart you ne'er can sever 

For a thought of them quite oft will o'er you creep. 

So when cometh twilight hour, 

Unto memory's sweet bower. 

Oft I go to spend a moment all alone; 

There with trailing vine and flower, 

'Midst the trees that upward tower, 

My full heart is raised to God in heav'nly zone. 



I WONDER 

When sinks the sun in golden west 

And twilight soft appears, 
I think of those whom I loved best, 

The friends of early years. 

When stars are twinkling overhead 

And nature seems all still, 
I think of all the loved ones dead, 

And wonder at God's will. 

—93- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I wonder why He took the best 

And left the weakest here, 
A-seeking o'er the earth for rest;, 

Filled with suspense and fear? 

I wonder, when I take review 

At strangeness of decree. 
That He should take the good and true, 

And leave just you and me. 

Then as I wonder at God 's will 

I think 'tis manifest 
That He doth all of heaven fill 

With just the very best. 



THE EVENING SHADOWS 

The evening shadows of my life 

Are drawing to a close; 
I soon must leave this worldly strife 

And with the dead repose. 

In glancing back, the bygone years 

Seem misty, like a dream; 
The fearsome thoughts and foolish tears 

Return in memory's gleam. 

Experience hath now revealed 

The follies of my youth, 
And though from all the world concealed, 

The Father knows the truth. 



— ^4i— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I gave no thought in youthful glow 

About the final end; 
Nor that old age life's blood would slow 

And mortal frame would bend. 

My ardent blood flowed swift and warm, 
With all of youth's hot fire; 

I thought not of a grief or harm, 
But yielded to desire. 

Now, looking back on those sad years. 

So full of sin and stain, 
Remorseful conscience starts the tears 

And fills my heart with pain. 

For many years I 've tried to mend 
The wrongs that I have done, 

That in the end, when I ascend, 
I'd be with God's own Son. 



THEY SAY WE CANNOT SING SO WELL 

They say we cannot sing so well 

When fifty years have passed; 
That though a song from us may swell. 

Its music will not last. 
I'm sure they must mistaken be. 

For God calls forth the song, 
And ever will its melody 

Through ages float along. 



-95— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



No spoken word of sweetness yet 

Has ever been destroyed, 
Though for a time we may forget, 

'Twill be again employed. 
Its music sweet, in after years, 

Will float out on the breeze, 
And memory will start the tears 

And many a heartache ease. 

An old man's song, with fragrance sweet. 

Is not to be despised; 
His noble thoughts, in language mete, 

Are oft immortalized. 
God whispers to him as of old — 

He tunes the dear old lyre, 
And sings the song in language bold. 

As God doth him inspire. 

As long as God inspires the song 

Immortal it will be. 
And though the years may pass along, 

You'll hear its melody. 
For songs inspired come from above, 

And never lose their power; 
They fade, then rise beneath God's love. 

Just like a lovely flower. 



I CAN ONLY SING AN HUMBLE SONG 

I can only sing you an humble song. 

To cheer your spirit as you drift along. 

I 've nothing to say that you do not know. 

As through life's pathway you ploddingly go. 

-96— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



But if you gaze on the beauty each day 
That is spread out to view in your pathway, 
'Twill lighten the burden, the toil and the care, 
And take from your heart all grief and despair. 

Soul beauty is found in many a face, 
Beneath scars and wrinkles that you may trace; 
And many a gem that is hidden from view, 
May be brought to light — discovered by you. 

The beauty you find may often impart 
A joy that may heal some poor broken heart 
And brighten with smiles a face once of woe. 
That may cause your own and others to glow. 



OPPORTUNE 

Keep ever hope before you. 

And do your level best; 
Ne'er let despondence sink jou, 

But struggle with the rest. 

Though darkened clouds may hover. 
Just bear this truth in mind: 

That opportune 's a rover, 
And may be just behind. 

Just bear up with a stout heart 
And laugh misfortune down. 

And nobly do your own part — 
Then opportune will crown. 



-97— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



New crops are gathered yearly — 
They grow on the same ground; 

And if you'll work sincerely 
The harvest will abound. 

But if you sit down daily 

And fold your hands and sigh, 

Old opportune, quite gaily, 
Will skip and pass you by. 



I FIRST SAW AND LOVED HER 

I first saw and loved her 

In morn's early life, 
When flowers were blooming, 

Their beauty all rife. 
The spring buds were swelling. 

And carpets of green 
Spread over the landscape — 

A beautiful scene. 

The songs of all nature 

Seemed singing to me. 
As near her I sat 'neath 

The shade of a tree. 
Each eye told the story — 

The story of love — 
Transporting to glory. 

To heaven above. 



—98- 



SONGS FRO]\I THE OZARKS 



Soon after^ we wedded 

And moved in a cot, 
And children have blest us— 

Ah, hapjDy 's our lot ! 
We are aging and gray. 

Our heart beats are true, 
We have naught to regret. 

Have nothing to rue. 

Now, downhill we travel. 

We'll soon p=ass away. 
And rest us together 

Beneath the cold clay. 
Our lives have been happ}^, 

Surrounded b}^ love — 
Together we'll journey 

To heaven above. 



WHEN DOUBTS ASSAIL 

When doubt assails my fainting heart 
And dnrk doth seem the hour, 

I throw myself, majestic God, 
On Th}^ almighty pow'r. 

I cannot comprehend Thy way, 
Nor what Thou hast in view; 

The clouds seem darker day by day, 
That hidest false from true. 



-99— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I cast me down on beds of doubt 

Without a staff or guide; 
My heart, all human, sometimes flout. 

And cast the Christ aside. 

Yet with all human reasoning 
The way seems dark and drear. 

If I but knew the truth I 'd sing, 
And Thou canst make it clear. 

Shouldst Thou but deign to hear my prayer. 

Remove the cloud of doubt, 
Each day would seem more wondrous fair. 

And I would sing- and shout. 



THE RIVER OF TEARS 

The river of sobs, and sighs and tears. 

Is ever flowing along. 
Filled with the debris of worldly cares. 

Drearily singing its song. 

Borne on its bosom are griefs and sighs, 
Sickness and sorrow, and pain. 

Ever renewing from darkened skies 
The sad and hopeless refrain. 

It mournfully sighs in winds that blow, 
And wafts it from tree to tree. 

Like ghostly spirits wailing their woe 
In sorrow and misery. 



-100— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Deep_, deep, is the stream of human woes, 
And deeper, lost hope's despair 

Is wringing the heart with voiceless throes 
Of many a grief and care. 

Borne on its current, the drifting weed 

Of many a sin-sick soul, 
Reaping the harvest of past sown seed, 

Is carried without control. 

Out on the ocean's volume so vast. 
Where the tide ebbs to and fro, 

Sooner or later the debris is cast 
And sinks to the depth below. 

Ever returning for human freight, 

Beginning again once more, 

Soon is its bosom filled with the weight 

Of those who were left before. 
* * * * * ^ 

Again the drifting without control, 
Again the wailing of many a soul, 
Again to the ocean's mighty deep. 
The debris will sink in one vast heap. 



LONELY AMIDST THE CROWD 

I live alone amidst the crowd 

That daily pass me by; 
And though unknown, I am too proud 

To give way to a sigh. 

—101- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I gave my heart's sweet youthful glow, 

In early manhood's prime, 
To one I thought as pure as snow, 

Who would make life sublime. 

Ah, disappointing were the years. 

And sorrow's paths I trod; 
Each day seemed full of grief and tears. 

And heavy was the rod. 

An ever-present, aching void. 

Was always by my side; 
No matter how I was employed, 

'Twould in my heart abide. 

My loving heart was choked with grief. 

With agony and woe; 
No Balm of Gilead for relief 

Could I find here below. 

In moody silence, day by day, 

I plodded 'long life's road; 
No ray of hope to cheer the way. 

Or lighten up the load. 

As years passed on and children came, 

I thought me, now, indeed, 
The blessings of sweet love will flame — 

My hungry heart to feed. 

But scarce they'd reached sweet youth's estate. 

When I discovered fair, 
Their mother had taught them to hate. 

And filled me with despair. 

102— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



So I am lonely in the crowd 
Surrounding me each day; 

Although a smile my feelings shroud, 
My heart is sad and gray. 

I look me back upon the years 
When life seemed joyous, bright, 

And pray to God with anguished tears, 
To take me home tonight. 

Perhaps when life's turmoil is past 
And spirits leave the clay, 

We will be reconciled at last. 
And joy will fill each day. 

Then with my early choice of life. 
With children by her side — 

Forgetting worldly hate and strife, 
We may in love abide. 



ROOM FOR ME 

They say in God's house there's room for me, 

And always there will a welcome be; 

All furnished in white, where angels dwell. 

And glory to God. the story tell. 

That the rooms all bright with love's sweet tone. 

Are tempered with joy from God's own throne. 

That naught there is dark, for He is light — 

His glory so great, makes heaven bright. 

— 103— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



That all tliere is joj, and angels sing 

A message of peace, good tidings bring. 

That 'round His white throne the harps resound, 

And melody sweet doth there abound. 

That gathered are saints, whose faces light 

Reflects from God, a glorious sight. 

That great angel throngs float in the air. 

With heavenly forms — wondrously fair. 

That all's so content in that dear home, 

No wandering sheep from it will roam. 

That pastures are sweet in his domain — 

There's no weary feet, no sigh, no pain. 

That waters serene do gently flow. 

All sparkling with sheen and heavenly glow. 

That on the green banks, with shade above. 

Swell voices of thanks for His great love. 

Oh, then if it's true, there's room for me. 

New life I'll pursue with jubilee. 

I'll kneel at His throne both morn and night. 

Until He says, *'Come soul, take thy flight." 



I NEVER THOUGHT OF DEATH 

In youth I never thought of death. 

It seemed so far away; 
Nor of a time when, void of breath, 

They'd lay me in the clay. 
But now, as twilight draweth near. 

Death's shadow seems to fall 
Across my pathway, and I hear 

The spirits softly call. 

104— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Like soft sweet chimings of a bell, 

That calls to evening prayer, 
Their voices ever seem to tell 

Of rest from toil and care. 
Then, with an angel for my guide, 

I'll cross the silv'ry strand, 
And there, with loved ones by my side. 

Dwell in the heav'nly land. 



IF YOU ESTEEM ME 

If you esteem me as you say. 
Place flowers on their graves; 

My heart turns to them every day. 
And for them ever craves. 



I picture desolation there. 
Without a single bloom; 

No loved one near to tend or care, 
Or brighten up the gloom. 



If one rose bush was placed between 
The two forms lying there. 

To blossom in the spring, I ween 
'Twould make the spot more fair. 



—105— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

And if each mound with pinlcs was bound. 

Their brilliant colors rare 
Would spread around upon the ground — 

A beauty sweet and fair. 

Then clean the spot around their lot 

And make it fair to view; 
Place at each head a flower pot, 

As I would do for you. 



A WEE LITTLE FLOWER 

A wee little flower 

By the side of a road, 
Refreshed by the shower 

Of a dewdrop, abode 
In a shady bower. 

Just thistles above; 
But never an hour 

Did it suffer for love. 

God made the wee flower. 

With a beauty so rare; 
He gave angels power 

To guard it with care. 
And every sweet moment 

The wee flower grew, 
Its blood was a-foment 

And tinting with blue. 



—106— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Maturing in beauty 

The wee flower grew^, 
Attentive to duty — 

A lesson to you. 
Content by the wayside 

In sweet virtue's ways, 
With God for its guide, 

It lived all its days. 



Now, Lydia: 

May you ever be true 

And content with your lot, 
Though possessions be few 

And your home but a cot. 
May your hearl be a home 

For sweet love to dwell in— 
Not a thou2:ht that will ro^\m 

Into paths of old sin. 



IN MY LADY'S GARDEN 

In my lady's garden. 

Many roses blow. 
Seeking, ever seeking. 

The secret of her glow. 



-107- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Cheeks are red with blushes, 

Like a golden sky; 
Rose, though red wth flushes. 

Cannot with them vie. 

Soft the rose's petals, 

Softer still her cheek, 
Though the rose has beauty, 

Her presence makes them meek. 

Golden glow of evening 

Tints her lovely face; 
Though the rose has sheening. 

Still they have not her grace. 

Drop your head, oh, roses ! 

Drop your head and die — 
For my lady passes, 

And you cannot with her vie. 



OH, DESTINY, THOU BREATH OF GOD 

Oh, destiny, thou breath of God! 

What mystery so great.'' 
Thou rulest us with chast'ning rod. 

And we cannot escape. 
From dust we came — to dust return — 

And thus ends human hope. 
Yet mortal heart doth ever yearn 

And for immortal grope. 



—108— 



SONGS fro:m the ozarks 



The light of God's but dimly seen 

By mortals here below, 
Yet ever try to pierce the screen, 

That hope may brighter glow. 
The body must return to dust, 

Forever to remain; 
But what becomes of life is just 

What we can ne'er explain. 

Unchangeable are nature's laws, 

And these laws govern all; 
Old destiny, with eagle claws. 

Securely doth enthrall. 
We can't escape from destined way — 

Our lives were foreordained; 
Though we may ever weep and pray. 

The law is still maintained. 

The life that leaves the melting frame 

May have another law. 
Where, free from earthly lust and shame, 

Be able to withdraw. 
And choose a pathway of its own 

In spirit world above — 
That may, some day, lead to a throne 

Of Godly peace and love. 

But laws that govern human-kind 

Are never changed below; 
To all the future we are blind. 

And fate we never know. 



—109- 



SONGS FROxAI THE OZARKS 



We come into this world unsought 
And breathe a few brief hours; 

When scarcely is our life's work wrought, 
We droop and fall like flowers. 



TREAD SOFTLY, SHE'S DYING 

Tread softly, she's dying — 

Dying alone — 
Reaping the harvest 

Of sin she has sown. 
Speak to her kindly 

In whisper's low tone — 
See ! she is crying 

That mercy be shown. 

In this poor hovel 

She lies here, unknown — 
Soon in a pauper's 

Grave she will be thrown. 
None of her people 

But what would disown — 
For fallen is she 

From fair virtue's throne. 

If 'twas her brother, 

He'd not be alone — 
Friends to his bedside 

Long since would have flown. 

110— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



But 'twas the sister 
By sin overthrown — 

Never since that day 

Has kindness been shown. 



Speak to her gently, 

For now she'd atone! 
Pray, for she begs 

With a deep, anguished groan, 
She humbly seeks pardon 

With a sob and a moan — 
Begs you in mercy 

Her sins to condone. 



Speak to her kindly 

And she'll cease to moan; 
Perhaps from her eyes 

A smile may be shown. 
Lead her to dream 

Of a happier zone. 
Then she'll pass out 

Without murmur or groan. 

Pray she may some day 

Reach heaven's white throne. 
Where all is forgiven 

And kindness is shown; 
Where in God's judgment 

No difference is shown 
To male or female — 

Where sex is unknown. 



—Ill— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



YE HILLS AND DALES 

Ye hills and dales and valleys green, 

Ye mountains lofty heights, 
Ye glens and meadows in between, 

'Midst nature's wondrous sights; 
My heart with rapture upward wings 

And throbs with joy's delights. 
While heavenly music inward rings, 

And soul takes upward flights. 

Ye mossy dells, where ever dwells 

A rythmic murmur low. 
Like chiming bells that softly tells 

Where waters sweetly flow, 
Ye fill my heart with godly love 

And pleasure here below. 
Like olive leaf in mouth of dove. 

Caused Noah's heart to glow. 

Ye silent nooks and singing brooks. 

Ye rippling little rills, 
Ye streams that flow in twist and crooks 

And fill my heart with thrills. 
Ye little know the ardent glow 

That all my being fills, 
As down the mountain sides you flow, 

To feed the many mills. 

Ye mountain peaks that silent speaks. 

Ye vales so far below. 
Sometimes in freaks, all beauty streaks 

Ye with a golden glow. 



—112— 




"Ye hills and dales and valleys green^ 
Ye mountains lofty heights." 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Ye mountain pine, in the sunshine, 

You, distant beauty show. 
While tangled vine doth intertwine 

Around your trunk below. 

I love each scene in nature green, 

I love the woods and streams; 
I love to wander all serene 

And dream sweet fairy dreams. 
I love each hill and mountain rill. 

The moonlight and sunbeams, 
The silence still, that heart doth thrill. 

Amidst old nature's schemes. 



WAITING FOR THE CALL 

I 'm simply waiting for the call 

Of loved ones gone before; 
There's not one now that's left of all — 

They're on the other shore. 

They left me many years ago 

To journey all alone; 
And grief has made my head like snow, 

And oft I sigh and moan. 

My trembling form is bent with age. 

My lamp is out of oil; 
I've entered on my life's last stage — 

I '11 soon be freed from toil. 

—lis— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



My spirit soon will take its flight — 

It may be midnight's call 
When God shall say, soul, come tonight, 

And then, farewell to all. 

Though soul may tremble with appall 

As upward I ascend, 
I'll try through faith to trust it all, 

And with His spirit blend. 

And when at last I reach His throne 
And find my loved ones there, 

I'll thank the Lord for mercies shown. 
In heartfelt praise and prayer. 



WHEN FRIENDS OF YOUTH 

When friends of youth have passed away 

And left you all alone. 
You wander lonesome, day by day, 

And often sigh and moan. 
The world, all selfish, pass you by 

And seek for pleasure gay. 
No time or care for sob or sigh, 

Nor for the a-ged gray. 

You live a life of retrospect — 

They, in prospective joy. 
The dead old past they all reject 

And a-ged thoughts annoy. 



—114— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The buoyant blood of ardent youth, 
Like swelling buds of springs 

Leave age behind without a ruth — 
Pass on with eagle wing. 

Age finds sweet pleasure in the past— 

In plucking withered leaves. 
In wandering in garden vast, 

Where mem'ry backward weaves; 
In dreaming of the days of yore 

When youthful hopes were bright, 
And of the loved ones gone before 

To heaven's immortal light. 

Ah, lonely is each passing day, 

And how the heart doth yearn 
To wrench the spirit from the clay 

And a new life discern. 
To leave this world of strife and tears 

And in new regions room, 
With friends we loved in early years — 

In God's own heavenly home. 



DON'T FORGET TO READ YOUR BIBLE 

Don't forget to read your Bible, boy. 

While out upon the road; 
It will give your dear old mother joy 

And lift a heavy load. 



115- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Read the place that she has marked for you, 

And heed the message there; 
It will make your heart more nobly true, 

And keep you from despair. 

Read the Proverbs filled with good advice, 

Apply them to your life; 
Keep your thoughts upon sweet paradise, 

Forgetting sin and strife. 
Read the prophet's message, good and clear, 

About God's only Son; 
Keep your body clean and heart sincere 

And He will say, well done. 

Read the Psalms for consolation sweet 

For comfort that will last, 
They will tend to make your joy complete 

And you'll forget the past. 
Let your mind dwell on the cleanly things 

While mixing with the world. 
Let your soul float out on heav'nly wings, 

Christ's banner keep unfurled. 

Let your heart be filled with charity 

For all your fellowman. 
And remember them upon your knee 

And help them all you can. 
If you'll heed the words that's written here. 

While dwelling on this earth, 
You will fill poor grieving hearts with cheer 

And prove yourself of worth. 

116— 



SONGS FROxM THE OZARKS 



WHAT DOST THINE EYES SEE? 

Poet, what dost thine eyes see. 
Gazing out so earnestl}'^? 
When I follow with my gaze, 
Blazing sunshine doth but daze! 
Every day I see the same 
Efforts made for wealth and fame, 
Though a wealth of beauty lie 
At our feet, we pass them by ; 
Yet in melody thy voice 
Ever seemeth to rejoice. 
Seeing beauty all around 
Everywhere in nature's bound. 

Poet of the woods and fields. 
In abandon thy heart yields 
To the call of nature dear 
Every season of the year. 
Though the leaves are sere and brown. 
From the tree tops falling down. 
Still thine eyes doth only see 
Traces left of spring's beauty. 
Is not what thine eyes behold, 
Autumn's season turned to gold. 
Purple here and yellow there — 
Dead, yet beautiful and fair.^ 

Poet, like immortal hope. 

Think you that these dead leaves grope 

For another season yet. 

Where life's sap is ever wet. 

Where the green doth ever wave. 

Freshened by the dews that lave? 

—117 



SONGS 1 R O M THE O Z A R K S 



Or unconscious of their fate, 
Molder into other state, 
Springing up from meUow ground 
With new beauty to astound — 
Ever changing, living on 
Till doth end creation's dawn? 

Poet, tell me, tell me true, 

What you see in skies of blue? 

Do you view immortal life 

Far away from mortal strife? 

Can the finite vision see 

Into God's eternity? 

Or must we in darkness grope 

With no light to cheer our hope, 

Reaching here and reaching there, 

Trembling hearts filled with despair, 

Ever stumbling on the way. 

Till doth come the Judgment Day? 

Poet, I would fain to know 
All this mystery below; 
Why man should immortal be. 
From God's anger ever flee? 
Could a sin within me flow 
E'en before I knew life's glow? 
Must I suffer grief and pain 
For the crime of brother Cain? 
Is it just that I should be 
Held for this eternally? 
Has not God some greater plan 
That will help poor fallen man? 



—118— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Poet, what is life to man 
That he should so earnest plan 
Future years of joyous hope 
With the foe, grim death, to cope? 
See you youth as well as age 
Fall before old grim death's rage? 
Nothing's certain here on earth, 
Death begins the day of birth! 
Yet he ever drives and slaves, 
Earthly things he ever craves 
Though he may attain life's span, 
Three score ten -doth end the man. 

Poet, if immortal life 
Frees us from all pain and strife. 
Dwelling in a higher zone. 
Where no grief or care is known. 
Why should man so dread the day 
When the soul departs the clay ? 
Hast thou seen the face of woe 
Of a soul that feared to go? 
How the trembling, craven clod 
Feared to meet the unknown God? 
If of truth he could but know, 
'Stead of fear, would his heart glow ? 

Poet, tell me of the soul! 
What influence doth control; 
If not He who rules the world, 
Who, old sinful Satan hurled 
Down from heaven's high estate, 
Here on earth to foment hate? 



—119— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



When it leaves the frame of clay, 
What become of it, I pray? 
Does it journey to the west. 
Ever seeking blessed rest? 
Or to east, where sun doth rise, 
Ever flashing to the skies? 

Poet, is its haven there. 

Floating in the ether air? 

Or must it be ever on 

Till eternity shall dawn? 

Is there ne'er a resting place. 

Or must still it onward race? 

Does it wander all alone 

In that vast and endless zone? 

Or does other spirits there 

Point the way with love and care, 

And encourage with a song. 

As they journey all along? 

Poet, life's a mystery. 
Borne out by man's history; 
Endless chains in brain doth weave. 
Mighty things he doth achieve. 
Yet a few brief years doth lay 
His weak frame in melting clay. 
Does his greatness still aspire 
Upward from his bed of mire? 
Does his intellect or thought 
Perfect things on earth not wrought ? 
Or unconscious breathless lie 
While eternal ages fly? 



—120— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Poet J though he may not know 
Even simple things below. 
And this life may often seem 
Like a misty, phantom dream, 
Yet sweet hope doth e'er impart 
Consolation to the heart. 
Then we hear the song birds sing. 
And the soul doth upward wing, 
Soaring high with pinions spread 
All exulting overhead. 
To a land of golden glow. 
Where sweet waters ever flow. 

Poet, the great mystery, 
Veiled from all humanity, 
Fills my heart with great amaze, 
Leaves me groping in a daze; 
Yet when gazing with thine eyes. 
Beauty of both earth and skies 
Throbs my heart with such delight. 
Soul seems taking upward flight. 
And I doubt me not at all 
That it is some higher call. 
Coming from a throne above. 
Filled with an eternal love. 



A PRAYER 

We approach Thy presence, Lord, 
Trusting in Thy promised word; 
Kneeling here at mercy's throne. 
All our wants to Thee are known. 

—121— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



In the Book that's for our guide. 
Thou hast said what e'er betide. 
What we'd ask in faith and love 
Would be granted from above. 

Now incline Thine ear, we pray, 
Grant our wishes, Lord, today; 
Hard and grievous are our cares. 
Mingled tears are with our prayers. 

Ah, the road is rough and steep, 
Oft with weary hearts we weep, 
For the heavy burdens bear 
And our frames sink with despair. 

Day by day we plod along, 
Sometimes cheered by hope 's sweet song, 
But more often feel the prod 
Of misfortune's hated rod. 

Then our cup is filled with tears. 
Mingled with suspense and fears. 
While our hands are closely prest 
'Gainst an aching, throbbing breast. 

Pain to body soon is past, 
Mental anguish oft doth last; 
Fend us from the last, we pray, 
For the first ends with the day. 

But the anguish of the mind. 
No solace for it we find; 
But like cup of bitter tears. 
Recalls past and sinful years. 



—122— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Ah, the corpse of other years. 
How they fill our hearts with fears ! 
Though we lock the closet tight, 
Yet they fill our souls with fright. 

And in private, if by chance. 
Backward in our hearts we glance. 
See the spectre standing there — 
Ah, it fills us with despair. 

We can hide from all but Thee, 
Hide past years of misery; 
But to self and Thee is known 
All the sins that we have sown. 

Help us to forget the past, 

Help it from our minds to cast — 

Root it up and throw it out. 

Then with joy we'll sing and shout. 



RESENTMENT 

In looking back the bitter years 

Since you and I were wed. 
And thinking of the flood of tears 

That I so often shed — 
I would not live the life again 

That you condemned me to. 
That caused me so much shame and pain, 

And other things to rue. 

—123- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I gave my girlhood love to you — 

I gave my very all, 
And thought that you were good and true, 

So god-like and so tall! 
I trusted in your promise fair 

That you'd be true to me; 
That I'd receive both love and care, 

And happiness, from thee. 

Ah, bitter has been all the years 

That once seemed bright and fair, 
And agonizing were the tears 

I shed in my despair. 
Like leaves that drop to autumn's call — 

All dead, no living breath — 
My heart has turned to bitter gall. 

By you, it met its death. 



I'M THINKING OF YEARS 

I'm thinking of years that have gone, 
Of many dear friends that I knew. 

In days of sweet youth's early dawn. 
Whose heartbeats were loving and true. 

'Midst rustic scenes, where I once played, 
Where rustling leaves swayed to the breeze. 

I often met with a sweet maid, 

As fair as spring; blossoms on trees. 



—124— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Fond memory over me waves 

As backward I glance o'er time's sea, 
And deeply my heart ever craves 

Her presence one moment with me. 

Her eyes were like violets blue, 

Her cheeks like the full blushing rose, 

Her breath like the fresh morning dew, 
When buds and sweet blossoms unclose. 

They buried her 'neath the green trees, 
And song birds are nesting above; 

Their voice in the sweet balmy breeze 
Are chanting a requiem of love. 

Ah, when I look back on the past 
And see the dead hopes lying there. 

My soul in affright stands aghast — 
For once they were blooming and fair. 



MOCKING BIRD 

Hail to thee, oh, mocking bird, 
Sweetest singer ever heard. 
Mocking every bird you meet. 
Imitating them complete; 
Gushing forth a song of praise, 
Filling us with sweet amaze; 
There's no songster can compete 
With your melody so sweet. 

—125- 



SONGS FROM THE O Z A R K S 



Caroling your lovely lay 

From the morn till close of day, 

And at night, when moonbeams peep. 

Lulling ns to restful sleep. 

How thy soft sweet tones do calm. 

Listening to thy soft sweet psalm. 

Like an angel 'gaged in prayer. 

Thy sweet voice our hearts ensnare. 

And when filled with love's romance, 
Thou, sweet bird, our souls entrance. 
Nightingale cannot compare 
To thy saucy, mocking air; 
Emperor and czar and king, 
Thou art all when thou dost sing; 
Nothing that on wings doth fly. 
Can with thee in music vie. 

When the dogwoods are in bloom 
And the birds, with song and plume, 
^Late. and build their nest on tree, 
Though they fill us with their glee, 
Yet 'tis not like thy sweet song 
Floating on the breeze along; 
And we're sure you mortify 
All the songsters flitting by. 



COME, GWENDOLINE 

Come, Gwendoline, and go with me; 
We'll sit beneath the old oak tree 
Where first we met and plighted lo> 
And swore our troth by all above. 

■126— 



SONGS FRO M T HE O Z A R K S 



Again we'll dream of our sweet youth^ 
When life seemed full of joy and truth^ 
And every day eternal spring 
And buds and blossoms seemed to sing. 

The music of the brooklet's stream 
Will add to pleasure of the dream; 
And as the waters gently flow 
We'll feel again youth's ardent glow. 

We'll listen to sweet nature's song, 
'Midst wildwood scenes forget all wrong. 
We'll pluck wild flowers and green fern, 
And let sweet mem'ry backward turn. 

Ah, me, we're bent with many years. 
Seen blasted hopes and bitter tears; 
Seen disillusion of our dream — 
Seen loss of friendships and esteem. 

We'll forget days forever gone 
And see new birthed a brighter dawn, 
Forgetting for a moment brief 
The cares of life, its pain and grief. 

Then come with me, dear Gwendoline, 
Back to our youth's field, just to glean 
One grain of fruit left standing there 
And store it in our hearts with care. 



-127- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

TO MAGGIE 

Could I but lean this aching heart 
'Gainst that sweet heart of thine, 

Its throbbing pain would all depart, 
And heaven's joy'd be mine. 

Wouldst thy lips yield me but one kiss, 

One kiss with soft sweet sigh, 
'Twould fill my very soul with bliss. 

And fevered ecstacy. 

If in thine eyes I could but trace 

One timid spark of love, 
And see love's blush spread o'er thy face, 

'Twould lift my soul above. 

Then give to me one moment's bliss — 

An embrace with a sigh — 
The ecstacy of one sweet kiss. 

And then — just let me die. 



HELEN ADAM KELLER 
(Blind, Deaf and Dumb) 

Moving in a world of darkness. 
Soul so full of grateful love! 

How we, in our selfish sharpness, 
Smite ourselves in self reprove. 

Could we penetrate the shadow 
Of the paths that thy feet tread, 



■128— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

See the beauties of the meadow 
Where thy lovely flowers spread, 

All this worldj with human kindness 
Would some loving deed express, 

For all selfish human blindness 

Would be changed to hearts that bless. 

Oh, the sacred hidden beauties 

Thy dark eyes alone doth see, 
With a heart to fulfill duties 

On a dark and starless sea, 
Must be heav'nly in their glory, 

Hid from all the world but thee, 
For we only hear the story 

As thy darkened eyes doth see. 
Then, if listen 'ing to the story 

Brings to us a sweet new light. 
From dark paths so full of glory. 

What must it be to thine own sight? 



CONTEMPT 

May I deep contempt ever keep 
For puerile minds that snarl and creep 
With hateful malice in their heart, 
For those who choose the nobler part 
Of life — whose intellects are well 
Above them, like heaven from hell. 



—129— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Poor, slimy, little weazened mind, 
'Tis strange indeed that God, so kind, 
Should find a place on earth for you. 
For when we get an inward view 
Of all the little things that brew 
In such a mind, it makes us spew. 

Go, worm; go hide away with care. 

You only poison God's pure air; 

The scent upon you is so foul 

It brings upon one's face a scowl; 

Go live away from men of worth 

Until good thoughts you can give birth. 

But if your mind remains still shrunk. 
Adopt a comrade from a skunk; 
'Twould prove congenial to your soul. 
And both could live in the same hole; 
Then you could live on all that's foul — 
A rat, a lizard, or an owl. 

But as the two of you will blend. 
Don't bring your odor to offend 
Usj with that awful nasty smell, 
'Twould drive us to the brink of hell ! 
And sure we'd rather be there, too. 
Than 'sociate with such as you. 



RESULT OF ANCIENT WRONGS 

The wrongs imposed by potentates, 

By emperors and tzars. 
Has caused old Europe's many states 

To shake with cannon jars. 



-ISO- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

They lie now helpless in the dust, 

While chaos reigns supreme. 
And hopeless, crave for just one crust, 

That they might life redeem. 

It is ordained the innocent 

Must sometimes suffer, too; 
And oft their very souls are rent 

For what the guilty do. 
With careless thought they passed wrong up. 

Bowed down to a false god, 
Until at last the bitter cup, 

God's sure and chast'ning rod. 

The blood-stained land is bleeding now, 

The people in despair, 
Upon their knees most humbly bow 

In supplicating prayer. 
If He who heeds the sparrow's fall 

Doth gently stir your heart. 
You'll listen to their anguished call 

And gladly do your part. 

Let's lift them up with hope's sweet cheer 

And help them all we can; 
Remove their sorrow and their fear, 

And help them future plan. 
Oh, let your heart with love expand 

And lift these poor ones up; 
Extend to them a helping hand. 

Remove the bitter cup. 



—181— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



FOUR SEASONS 

Autumn, winter, spring and summer — 

Each one has its tear; 
Though in spring some joys we number, 

Winter's cold and drear. 
In the autumn leaves are falling, 

Cover all the ground. 
Bringing to us thoughts appalling, 

Solemn and profound. 

Summer, with the full blown roses, 

Radiant and fair. 
To the human heart discloses 

God's great love and care. 
In the autumn, birds are leaving 

For a warmer clime. 
And full many hearts are grieving 

For their songs sublime. 

In the winter, cold breeze blowing, 

Freezes to the bone; 
Sun is dimmed, and often snowing. 

Makes you shake and moan. 
But in spring, when buds are swelling, 

And you venture out. 
It just seems with God you're dwelling, 

And you sing and shout. 

Every season has its pleasure, 

Also has its tear; 
There's no joy without a measure 

Of a little fear. 



■132- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



WHEN LEAVES ARE TURNIN3 

When leaves are turning sere and brown 

And autumn winds are blowing, 
And one by one all tumbling down, 

Just like the trees were snowing, 
I love to wander 'midst the scene 

Of nature all a-changing, 
And of the autumn's harvest glean 

Gold leaves for crown arranging. 

It takes me back to early days, 
''The days of school vacation," 
When boys and girls of happy ways, 

''The future of the nation," 
Just made old nature's woods to ring 

With shouts of animation. 
As with oak leaves they crowned a king, 

Then queen, to fit his station. 

I love to take the golden leaves 

To deck sweet mem'ry's bower; 
I love to, when my spirit grieves. 

Gaze at them by the hour; 
For when my thoughts go back the years. 

With memory all churning, 
My eyes are filled with heartfelt tears. 

And turns to them with yearning. 



133- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



FINIS 

I leave you all now, and gracefully bow, 

I hope that the book will give pleasure; 
That no frowning brow, the reading will endow, 

But that you may find some sweet treasure. 
They're but simple rhymes, composed in spare times, 

And some of them without true measure; 
Great truths you will find quite oft interlined, 

You may trace them out at your leisure. 



J. M. HICKMAN, 

Earle, Arkansas. 



-184— 



SONGS FROM 
THE OZARKS 

BOOK II 



PUBLISHED 1922 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



EARLE HIGH SCHOOL 

Dear Boys and Girls: 

When in my last unconscious sleep 

I rest beneath the sod, 
Should disappointments o'er you sweep 

And faith be lost in God — 
'Twould please me well if you would ask. 

What was the author's creed — 
When faint and weary with life's task, 

He felt the most in need? 

I'd say, he could not always see 

The wisdom of his God — 
When he was filled with misery. 

Caused by misfortune's rod, 
Yet something seemed to draw him near, 

In darkest hours of gloom — 
To the great God for love and cheer. 

And then his heart would bloom. 



TO THE MASONS OF VICKSBURG, MISS. 

Oh, think of me kindly while I am away, 
Remember, in spirit I'm with thee each day; 
The sound of the gavel will reach to my ear. 
And many dear voices in dreams I will hear. 

The warm heart's expression conveyed in the grasp. 
Stirs tender emotions as brothers' hands clasp; 
No Judas amongst us, no kiss to betray. 
We kneel at the altar as brothers, to pray. 

—137- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



May fond recollection recalling my face. 
In each heart's affection find loving embrace; 
And when I return, just to meet you once more — 
May I find a sweet welcome awaiting in store. 

COME, WANDER IN THE FRAGRANT DEW 

In evening's twilight solitude — 

When sitting all alone — 
Should some past mem'ry stir your mood 

And make you sigh and moan — 
Remember this, I've suffered, too. 

And know just how you feel — 
And truly sympathize with you, 

As songs within reveal. 

Then open up these pages, friend, 

And read the lines with care; 
You'll find some loving thought to blend 

That may cure your despair: 
I know you'll find a thought or two 

To dissipate the gloom — 
Come, wander in the fragrant dew. 

Where many flowers bloom. 

DEAR READER 

If in an hour of cheerless grief 

You come for comfort here. 
And in these pages find relief 

To give you hope and cheer — 
My heart will throb with gratitude. 

And soar to heaven above; 
Because some song has done you good — 

And cured your grief with love. 

-138— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



IF IN THIS WORLD 

If in this world of grief and tears 

One song of mine inspires, 
And fills with hope the future years 

For all your heart desires — 
Oh, what a joy 'twould be to me 

When I am old and gray — 
Just to receive a word from thee 

To cheer me on my way. 



TO MY GRAND CHILDREN 

Oh, my babies, how I miss you! 

Miss you more than words can tell; 
I would like to have you with me 

In some lovely flower dell. 
There — with naught to pain or worry- 

I would like, the livelong day — 
Just to see your sweet young faces 

Light up with the joy of play. 



ALAS! I CANNOT 

Alas ! I cannot trace the beams 

That sparkle in each eye, 
Like summer's lightning chastened gleams 

Upon an evening's sky; 
The soulful beauty of each glance — 

With melting liquid, rare — 
Doth pulsing heart throbs each entrance, 

And all my thoughts ensnare. 

—139— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



IMPULSE 

The impulse of each human heart 

Is like a lightning dash, 
That quickly strikes with stinging dart, 

Then melts with its own flash. 

ONE TENDER GLANCE 

One tender glance from loved one's eye, 
One glist'ning tear — one soft sweet sigh — 
Will melt the hardest heart of stone. 
And love will mingle with its tone. 

KING BABY 

. All truly great and noble minds — 
In simple things true pleasures find. 
The infant lips — the tiny hands — 
Rule kings and nobles in all lands. 

The prattle of one wee small child 
Will make the brute or savage mild ; 
The gurgling laugh — the baby smile — 
Will all true noble hearts beguile. 

IF I COULD ONLY BE 

If I could only be at ease. 

And do the things that I would please, 

I'd move to some sweet sylvan spot. 

Where I in peace might pass my lot — 

And dream and muse, and write sweet things, 

And do my best to heal heart stings. 



—140- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



MY HEADSTONE 

No marble white, all polished bright, 
May mark my cold damp bed ; 

It may be vine to intertwine 
O'er my unconscious head. 

But if birds sing each coming spring, 
Their songs of praise to God — 

Just o'er the mound where I am found, 
'Twill glorify the sod. 

If pale moonbeams with softening gleams 

Will o'er me gently glow; 
I'll sweetly rest — by them caressed — 

While balmy breezes blow. 

Then while all's still, like flowing rill, 

I'll murmur a sweet song — 
To float above in rhythmic love, 

That each breeze may prolong. 



HAD I THE GIFT OF MELODY 

Had I the gift of melody 

To sing the songs I hear — 
In every leafy swaying tree 

And all of nature dear — 
I 'd fling my voice upon the breeze 

That it might wafted be — 
To lonely spirits ill at ease 

And fill them with sweet glee. 



141— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I'd mind them o' the birds o' spring 

As on the wings they fly, 
And to dear God so sweetly sing 

While soaring in the sky. 
I'd make each gushing note to swell 

Until they would aspire — 
To lift their souls where God doth dwell, 

With the angelic choir. 

I'd murmur soft^ the low sweet song 

Of rippling streams that flow, 
And kt the balmy breeze prolong 

Each rhythmic murmur low. 
I'd let the zephyrs tune my lute 

And sigh with each soft breeze — 
With dreamy faeries blow my flute, 

And mock the swaying trees. 

Majestic ocean's song I'd sing — 

With all its thund'rous roar — 
When storms — the mighty billows fling — 

Upon its beaten shore. 
The shrieking wind — the lightning crash— 

The troubled water's cry — 
I'd imitate each flash and dash, 

And every sob and sigh. 

I 'd sing the song of rains that fall — 

The melting, sighing sound — 
In notes that would all souls enthrall. 

With music to astound. 
The rocks and rills — the vales and hills— 

The mountain's lofty height — 
I 'd sing to fill all hearts with thrills 

Of pleasure and delight, 
■142— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

I'd sing each sound in nature's bound, 

Yea, many anthems raise — 
With melody that would astound, 

And cause all hearts to praise. 
I'd softly croon a rhythmic tune 

To soothe each soul with love; 
My harp I'd tune both morn and noon — 

To lift all hearts above. 

FATE HATH ORDAINED 

Fate hath ordained that Mother Earth 

Will some day claim my frame; 
My melting form in a new birth. 

May cause a rose to flame. 

The beauty of my thoughts may flow. 

And mingle with the soil — 
And mix with some sweet flower's glow 

As upward it doth toil. 

A maid may pluck me from the stem, 

And place me in her hair. 
To use me as a diadem — 

Her heart's choice to ensnare. 

A mother's hand with tender care 

May place me on a grave — 
Of some dear loved one lying there — 

Her soldier son, so brave. 

Then let my thoughts with beauty glow, 

And each day give new birth — 
That flowers from my soil may blow. 

With all of beauty's worth. 

—143- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



IN DREAMS 

In phantom dreams^ there often beams 

A wondrous vision near — 
That simply teems with love's sweet gleams, 

That never had a peer. 

Like crystal stream in nature's scheme, 

A music soft and low — 
Doth ever seem with love supreme. 

When she is near, to flow. 

The music sweet that doth repeat 

Each murmur in the dream — 
Like waving wheat that zephyrs meet — 

Fills me with joy supreme. 

She comes with love and bends above. 

And softly strokes my hair; 
Like Noah's dove — she coos with love — 

And croons a soft sweet air. 

And as she sings, soul upward wings 

And floats above the sky; 
Like a bell that rings soft chimes, she brings 

A joyous ecstasy! 

For as she bends, my spirit blends. 

And all my joy's complete; 
Sorrow suspends, beauty transcends — 

And love then reigns replete. 



-144— 




"Upon the wall above me — 
A picture sweet and fair — ' 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Oh, lovely theme ! My sweetest dream ! 

My angel mother, fair ! 
E'en in a dream thou art supreme — 

And without a compare. 

'TWAS MIDNIGHT 

'Twas midnight's solemn hour — 

My light was burning low — 
I sat me silent musing. 

Before my firelight's glow; 
Upon the wall above me — 

A picture sweet and fair — 
Seemed smiling with a welcome. 

Upon me, sitting there. 

And as I gazed with longing, 

I seemed to hear a voice 
From out the past, speak softly — 

Oh, loving heart rejoice. 
In spirit I am with thee, 

To guard thy feet aright — 
And hover 'bout thy bedside, 

To cheer thee through the night. 

I know the lonesome aching — 

The void that fills each day — 
The clouds that hide the sunshine — 

And note each strand of gray. 
'Tis but a fleeting moment — 

This sand of earthly life — 
Then spirit, freed from earth pot. 

Will dwell 'midst beauty rife. 

—145— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Oh, faithful heart be cheerful, 

For I am ever near 
In spirit, both to comfort 

And fill with loving cheer. 
I'm waiting by the wayside 

In spirit world above, 
And soon will come the twilight, 

When you'll join me, my love. 

Then ever reunited. 

Our souls will sweetly glow — 
Where crystal streams of water. 

From heavenly fountains flow. 
Oh, faithful heart be cheerful 

Until that blessed day; 
Remember I am waiting. 

To guide thee on the way. 

EVENING SHADOWS 

Often when the evening's shadow 

Spreads o'er all a soft'ning glow — 
And the treetops and the meadow 

Whisper as the breezes blow — 
Silently my footsteps wander, 

Where the crystal streamlets flow — 
There to dream, and muse, and ponder — 

Thoughts all drifting to and fro. 

In the western sky, soft gleaming. 
Oft there lingers a sweet glow — 

With a golden color beaming 
Like a beautiful rainbow: 



—146— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Faintly, whippoorwill note dying 
As the twilight fades away — 

On the breezes — softly sighing — 
Recalls scenes of yesterday. 

Sweetly sounds the trickling water 

As it courses to the sea; 
On the banks, my footsteps loiter — 

Listening to its melody. 
Crickets all around are chirping 

'Midst the dank and moldered leaves; 
Busy spider — space usurping — 

Spins his silken thread and weaves. 

Many sounds in nature ringing — 
As the twilight disappears — 

With a buzzy kind of singing — 
Reaches to my welcome ears. 

Hark ! The mocking bird — low trilling- 
Sings the moon a grateful hymn — 

With a lullaby all thrilling — 
As he sways upon a limb. 

Silent, with a heart uplifted, 

Speeds a prayer to God above — 
For these little birds — so gifted — 

Seemingly so full of love. 
Heart and soul with nature blending — 

Drinking in the sweet incense; 
All its beauty freely lending — 

For my grief, a recompense. 



—147— 



SONGS fro:m the ozarks 



BUT FEW HAVE GIFT 

But few have gift of tongue to tell 

The feelings of the heart — 
The lovely thoughts that inward dwell, 

Its beauties to impart — 
Yet as each thought on breeze is flung 

To float on ether tide — 
Though crude in style, it will be sung- 

And in some heart abide. 

Let those who love the pricking thorn 

Dwell on the desert plain; 
Where only cactus doth adorn — 

Whose slightest touch is pain — 
There let them joy to heart's content 

With dust to dim the eye, 
Until, all blinded, soul is blent 

With all the arid dry. 

Though poor and humble be the song- 

I'll strive to catch one strain 
Of melody, to pass along, 

And sing it once again. 
The mocking bird doth but repeat 

From his sweet gushing throat — 
Each song he hears full and complete- 

From birds of single note. 

From high to low this bird doth sing, 

And trills sweet melody; 
And though he makes the welkin ring, 

'Tis but a borrowed glee. 



-148- 



SONGS FROM THE O Z A R K S 



Then let me kind encouragement. 
Give to the humble bard; 

And with a loving heart comment- 
And critic's scorn discard. 



THE BIRDS ALL SIT 

The birds all sit with drooping wings 

Upon the leafless trees; 
The storm with bitter icy stings — 

Each little foot doth freeze. 

The dreary sound of wind and rain, 

Is carried in the air, 
And fills with melancholy's pain. 

And hopeless sad despair. 

Oft in the spring, 'midst waving rush, 
These little birds I 've heard — 

Just trill and sing on tree and bush, 
Until my soul v/as stirred. 

Now while the wind doth sigh and sweep. 
And down comes sleet and hail — 

Within my room I kneel and weep, 
And their sad fate bewail. 

When summer comes and blossoms blow, 

And balmy is the air — 
Again these birds, with hearts aglow — 

Will trill with music rare. 



—149— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Again they'll build on bush and limb^, 
And raise their nestlings there; 

With grateful hearts they'll raise a hymn, 
That will my soul ensnare. 

Oh^ God above Who rules M^ith love, 
Look down on them tonight — 

The wren and sparrow, jay and dove. 
And pity their sad plight. 

Temper the wind. Creative Mind, 
For all things heed Thy word; 

And in Thy mercy kindly find 
A haven for each bird. 



RED ROSES AND WHITE ROSES 

The red for the living, 
The white for the dead. 

We'll crown with sweet roses 
Each loved one's dear head. 

The full blushing red rose. 

Like mother's sweet face — 
We'll place o'er the full heart. 

With loving embrace; 
And through the pure white rose. 

Fond mem'ry will trace — 
Each feature of mother's 

Dear sweet loving face. 



-150— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



We thank thee, dear red rose, 

That mother is here, 
To watch fondly o'er us — 

To comfort and cheer; 
We plead that her presence 

Be left years to bless — 
To comfort in troubles — 

To love and caress. 

We pluck the pure white rose, 

Then kiss it and sigh. 
And yearn for the meeting 

In the sweet by and by. 
When mother shall greet us. 

On that blessed shore — 
Where parting and sorrow. 

Shall be never more. 

The red for the living. 
The white for the dead — 

We'll crown with sweet roses. 
Each loved one's dear head. 



COULD I BUT SAY 

Could I but say I 've done my best. 

When my last sun has set; 
That measured by the square's true test 

I'd have no need to fret; 
I'd sleep in peace when the last beam 

Of sunshine in the west — 
With all its softened golden gleam — 

Had sunk unto its rest. 

—151- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Coiild I but say each stone was square, 
And fit into the space, 

Left by the master, "HIRAM," there- 
Each fitting in its place — 

And as the temple stood complete — 
A monument to love — 

And saw the stones I squared fit neat — 
'Twould lift my soul above. 

Could I but say I drew no pay 

Except for honest work. 
But labored faithful, day by day — 

Though wearied, did not shirk — 
I 'd welcome the soft twilight eve 

When last I laid me down, 
Without a darkened thought to grieve — 

Or fear to mar my crown. 

I pray the level, square and plumb, 

May prove my work well done; 
That I may get encomium 

From HIRAM, ''Widow's Son''— 
So, when at last I lay aside 

My working tools on earth — 
I may with HIRAM then abide, 

Because of proven worth. 

A FROZEN BIRD 

Poor little birdie once so fair, 
Thou has succumbed to winter's air. 
Last night in damp cold misery — 
Thy shelter but a leafless tree — 
Cold winter's blast — with snow and sleet — 
Chilled thy poor frame from head to feet. 
-152— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Thou liest here stretched out full low, 
Without a spark of life's sweet glow. 

Oft when the buds were fresh with dew, 
I Ve silent stood — entranced by you — 
And listened to thy wild sweet note. 
That warbled sweetly from thy throat, 
But now, thou liest stiff in death — 
Forever gone is living breath: 

No tears are shed o'er thy poor bier. 
No kindred of thy kind draws near. 
But all alone — without a friend — 
Grim death was faced unto the end: 

When flowers bloom again in June, 
I '11 miss the music of thy tune. 
And lonely wander in the wood, 
Bowed down by melancholy's mood; 
And though all nature may bloom fair, 
I'll miss thee floating in the air. 

No longer nestlings in the tree 
Will fill thy mother heart with glee: 
No longer, mating in the spring. 
Will mate of thine so sweetly sing, 
But here, uncovered, lie and rot, 
Where feet may tramp thee on the spot. 

Alas ! Poor bird ! I '11 shed a tear — 
And leave thy dead form lying here; 
Perhaps God has, in tender love. 
Prepared for thee a home above. 
Where all are sheltered from each blast, 
And tender mercies ever last. 

—153— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



REMORSE 

There comes a time when we regret the past; 

Regret the follies and mistakes of life; 
The errors of our youth ofttimes doth last- — 

Until old age^ our forms with mortal strife 
Doth bend, and we are filled with sad remorse; 

Remorse so deep, that anguish oft doth blend; 
And how pleased we 'd be, our minds to divorce 

From it, when on our knees prayers ascend. 
The sad look of pain from those we offend. 

Oft go with us through life — until the end — 
And in sorrow, how oft doth conscience smote 

Us with what we 've done, as their pain we note. 

THERE IS A BOY 

There is a boy I 've not yet seen — 

Three hundred miles away — 
My heart would leap with joy, I ween, 

To see his face this day: 

To romp with him upon the green 

Would fill my soul with joy; 
I'd do some capers seldom seen. 

To humor that sweet boy. 

I 'd crawl with him upon the floor 

And let him ride my back; 
I'd give him all my precious store, 

Though he might break and crack. 



154— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I'd let that boy full freedom take. 
Though he might much destroy — 

And let him yell and much noise make, 
The neighbors to annoy. 

I would not care what they might say, 

Nor would I care for slight; 
I 'd find my comfort eyery day. 

In giying him delight. 

Each night I'd take him on my knees. 

And in my arms enfold, 
While to my breast I 'd loving squeeze. 

Like miser would his gold. 

I'd play with all his little toes, 

And pinch his little ears; 
I 'd kiss his eyes, his hair, his nose — 

And wipe away his tears. 

I'd watch him in his little dreams — 

At night, when all asleep, 
And try to catch the angel beams 

That o'er him watch did keep. 

I'd try to be the first at morn 

When he would ope his eyes — 
To see the glory that adorn 

A baby's sweet surprise. 

Please come and bring that boy real soon- 
Don 't keep me in suspense — 

They say I'm acting like a loon. 
And that I haye no sense. 



—155- 



SONGS FRO.M THE OZARKS 



CRIMINALS 

Last night while winter's wintry blast 

Was driving snow and sleety, 
I thought of many a poor outcast 

Unsheltered on the street; 
Of many a widow left alone 

In poverty's distress^ 
Who on their own resources thrown, 

Were filled with bitterness. 

I thought of the inhuman act 

Of owners of coal mines^ 
Who entered into a compact — 

In heartless, mean combines — 
And raised the price of coal so high, 

That few could purchase heat, 
And many possibly might die — 

Exposed to snow and sleet. 

I hold more honor for the man 

Who bravely takes by force. 
Than for the coward, sneaking clan, 

Who suffer no remorse: 
The greatest criminals of the age 

Are multi-millionaires — 
Who in such dirty schemes engage — 

And plan such filthy snares. 

I read in the Appeal today, 

About a negro man — 
Who stole a chicken on his way — 

"His sentence three years ran.'' 



—156— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Yet if illegal, mean combine, 

Should corner all the wheat — 
And more than that, I interline — 

Should also corner meat — 

E'en though the poor should starve and die — 

I do right here opine — 
The only law that would apply 

Would he some flimsy fine. 
Had I my way law would prevail — 

I'd make it known to men — 
For some things they would land in jail, 

For this, they'd land in pen. 

MOTHERS' SONS 

No muffled drums are beating here — 
No treading softly o'er a bier — 
But to the sound of thund'rous roar — 
Whilst grape and shrapnel's whistling o'er — 
And cannon's blast that split the air — 
'Midst blood that's running everywhere — 
And awful shrieks of mangled ones — 
We are burying mothers' sons: 

Mothers' sons. 

No time have we to drop a tear — 
No crossing of the hands is here — 
The shrouds are all of bloody gear — 
Our hands are always full of smear: 
No three by six by six feet deep — 
We bury them in one great heap. 
No favors shown to high born ones — 
We are burying mothers' sons. 

Mothers' sons. 

—157- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



CAROLYN LOUISE JENKINS 

Wee flower that has sprung to birth, 
I wish thee all thy mother's worth; 
Thy father's spirit — freed from fault — 
And every good thing to exalt. 

I doubt not but in future years. 
Thou 'It have thy share of joy and tears; 
For light and shadow here on earth 
Begins the very day of birth. 

Each rose that blooms has thorns beneath, 
And pains go with each laurel wreath. 
Life's mountain side is rough and steep, 
And we must toil if we would reap. 

Each has a place to fill on earth, 
And we should strive to prove our worth. 
Ne'er shirk the duties here entailed. 
But struggle 'til the heights are scaled. 

Though worn and weary with the strife, 
Keep struggling for a better life; 
And though the burden heavy seems, 
Let hope shine forth with sunny beams. 

And when at last you reach the end. 
May your tried spirit sweetly blend — 
With all the loved ones gone before. 
To suffer grief and pain no more. 

Then, from immortal height look down, 
And cheer some other to a crown; 
Some heart bowed down with earthly strife- 
And lift them to a higher life. 



■158- 




'Wee flower that has sprung to birth, 
I wish thee all thy mother's worth." 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



SKELETONS 

We bow ourselves with worldly care; 

Full well we know it does no good, 
Nor does it make our burdens less, 

But adds to melancholy's mood. 

Yet ne 'ertheless, we cannot help 

Our minds from broodings filled with care; 
Distorted visions keep from sleep, 

Our thoughts so filled with darksome fear. 

Each heart hath secrets kept within — 
For untold wealth would not disclose; 

And though the face may show a smile — 
Within, 'tis dark and all morose. 

The phantom ghost of other limes, 
Doth wring regret from inmost soul; 

And as the tide of time rolls on. 

We're tortured by old mem'ry's ghoul. 

Though vain regret may o'er us steal, 

We profit not by looking back. 
Yet as our memories urge us on. 

We yield, and suffer torture's rack. 



I WOULD NOT ASK A GREATER BOON 

I would that I might pass my life 

Forever by thy side. 
Free from the cares of mortal strife — 

Just with thee to abide. 

—159— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Just to sit by my own hearthstone, 
And feel thy presence near — 

With ne'er a grief, or sob, or moan, 
And thee alone to cheer. 

I would not ask a greater boon 
While living on this earth — 
Than just to hear thee softly croon. 



To watch the nestling snuggling there, 

Upon thy bosom white — 
With tiny fingers pulling hair — 

And fireside shining bright. 

With just sufficient to the end 

For comfort's sustenance; 
That joy and happiness might blend, 

And sweet content enhance. 

That leisure moments, in sweet peace, 

Be spent with thee in joy; 
From all life's trouble, a surcease — 

And nothing to annoy. 

KEEP THE SOUL BEAUTIFUL 

The roses plucked and worn today, 

Will wither soon and pass away; 

Their fragrance sweet that filled the air. 

Will be replaced by others fair. 

With careless thought you throw one down 
And place another on your gown. 



-160- 




"To watch the nestling snuggling there, 
Upon thy bosom white — " 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

The roses that now fill your room, 
You will not miss while others bloom; 
But soon cold winter's chilling air — 
Will blight, and make your garden bare. 

'Tis then, while leaves are sere and hrorvn- 
You'll find no rose to deck your gorvn. 

You may, just like a butterfly — 
Have beauty that will please the eye — 
But after all, 'tis but skin deep, 
And wrinkles soon may make you weep. 
A soul's sweet beauty always tends 
To gather 'round one, many friends. 

Then as old age doth bend the frame — 
Those dear old friends remain the same. 
They still see beauty in the face — 
That love has filled with noble grace: 

Though winter's wind may blow ecffh day, 
The beauty of that soul will stay. 



THE OLD TIME NEGRO 

I still libs wid ol' master — 

Aldough dey say I'se free; 
An' do I dosent has ter — 

Yet dis de place fo' me. 
De time I'se born I can't tell — 

So many years ago — 
Dey say de time de stars fell 

Frum hebben like de snow. 



-161— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



01' master born de same day, 

An' ebber sence dat time — 
I'se bin wid him in work an' play- 

Frum boyhood to man's prime. 
As boys we played togedder, 

An ' dumb de ol ' grape vine, 
An' rambled o'er de medder 

In de pleasant spring sunshine. 

Ol' master alius fed me 

Frum de table where he eat, 
An' alius careful fo' to see 

Dat I wuz clean an' neat. 
De war free all de niggers, 

An' lef ' de place all bare; 
But master done some figgers. 

An' rent de place on share. 

'Twas skimpin' kine o' libbin — 

Not like de good ol' days — 
Jes' skimp an' sabe an' scribbin — 

An' doin' 'dout always. 
But master held de ol' place. 

An' missis done her share — 
'Til some de niggers 'gin to brace, 

An' times once more wuz fair. 

De niggers all wuz learnin' 

Dat dey mus' work or die — 
Dat freedom widout earnin' — 

No eats would dem supply. 
So wid dat combination 

A scrappin' o' de rows, 
Quite soon de ol' plantation 

Wuz bloomin' like a rose. 

■162— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I nebber axed fo' money — 

Fo' master alius saw — 
I got my share o' honey, 

To fill ol' nature's law; 
An' now an' den a quarter, 

To buy a little trash — 
To mix up kin' o' sorter 

Wid my daily dish o' hash. 

But I wuz wid my master, 

Bof mornin ', noon and night, 
An' nebber had to pester — 

But lef to him, dat fight! 
Dey is some free born niggers, 

Dat loaf's mos' ebery day; 
But what's de puzzlin' figgers — 

Is, how dey makes it pay? 

I still libs wid ol' master. 

An' will until I die; 
An' when to leave, I has ter — 

I'll wait fo' him on high. 

REPLY TO CRITICISM OF NEGRO EDITOR 
ON THE OLD TIME NEGRO 

Poor humble black man, in thy heart — 
Through misconception, thou dost smart; 
And brooding o'er past slavery's night — 
Hath dimmed love's glory with a blight. 
Know ye not, God, in wisdom great — 
Created all men to their state — 
And each one fills his proper sphere 
Upon this dear old hemisphere? 

—163- 



SONGS FROIVI THE OZARKS 

Love is not bound by race or creeds, 
But e'er responds where it best feeds: 
The black man's master ever gave — 
A true affection to his slave — 
And often through the gloomy night. 
Sat by his bed 'til broad daylight, 
And often o'er his sick couch hung — 
To moisten his poor fevered tongue: 

He never failed a need attend, 
With heartfelt sympathy to blend. 
Ah ! Oft I see in visions now — 
A white hand stroke a poor black brow! 
Why ! Even at the end of war ! 
That left full many a bleeding scar ! 
I've seen both master and the slave, 
Stick close together to the grave ! 

It was a love not bound by race — 
A love that nothing could efface: 
Born as a slave on his birthday! 
Nay! In his master's heart, I say! 
I point with pride to that past race. 
Who felt no shame of a black face: 

There is a purpose in all things; 
From evil oft a good thing springs; 
Compare yourself with native state — 
All grovelling in filth and hate — 
Where tribe enslaves another tribe, 
And virtue's sold for a bauble bribe! 



•164- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Think you, that only you were slaves f 

How about Egypt's Jewish graves? 

God's chosen people here on earth — 

By Pharoah, enslaved from birth! 

Again, in Babylon they wrought — 

And through this means, God, lessons taught — 

And purged them from all pagan stain. 

To lead the world to Him again. 

Old slavery's past — the shackles gone — 
And all rejoice at freedom's dawn: 
It did a work to help the world — 
Christ's banner, in black hearts unfurled. 
Now go ye on and do your best, 
And trust in God for all the rest; 
In His good time He'll do His part — 
And comfort every clean, true heart. 

A COMMON WEED 

'Twas but a common little weed, 

'Midst many flowers rare, 
That lived content amidst the mead, 

Dependent on God's care. 

Full many regal roses blew 

With beauty to ensnare. 
Whilst odors of sweet morning's dew. 

Made fragrant all the air. 

Each petal of the lowly weed 

Was of the same dull hue, 
But dewdrops fed its thirsty need, 

As day by day it grew. 



—165- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

The bright sunbeams played on its head 

And gentle zephyrs blew — 
And silken weaves of spider thread 

Flashed with each morning's dew. 

'Twas but a tiny little thing — 
But God had placed it there 

To bloom and blossom in the spring — 
And comfort some despair. 

For every tiny thing that grows, 

God purposed in its birth, 
A stream of comfort that bestows 

Some blessing on this earth. 



My lady plucked the full blown rose, 
And placed with tender care — 

Upon her bosom, to repose — 
And it was wondrous fair ! 

She tramped the weed beneath her feet 
Without a thought or care — 

And its weak stem quite lowly beat — 
And left it lying there. 

The full blown blushing rose, by night, 

Its beauty all had shed; 
The odor sweet had taken flight, 

And left it wilted, dead. 

My lady threw with careless thought. 

The wilted rose away. 
And from the bush, another sought, 

To take its place next day. 

166— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

The same sad fate met this sweet rose, 

And laid its head full low; 
Though for a time it did repose, 

And on her bosom glow. 

And thus with many a bud and bloom, 

Until, alas ! at last — 
Cold winter came and sealed their doom, 

And killed with icy blast. 



A nature lover came one day 

Across the lowly weed, 
All bent and broken, 'midst decay. 

But full of goodly seed. 

Its root, deep buried in the earth, 
Possessed a virtue rare — 

Of value more than gold in worth — 
To comfort sick despair. 



The hell had tolled the solemn sound 

Of midnight's silent hour; 
A mother knelt with grief profound 

Above an infant's borverj 
And earnest prayers arose to God, 

That He would mercy show. 
And take away the chastening rod. 

And health on it bestow. 



—167- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

'Twas but a liquid drop or two^ 

Rubbed on the little breast, 
That ope'd the pores with moisture's dew. 

And gave the infant rest. 
The lowly little common weed, 

Had proved true value's worth. 
For 'twas a friend in time of need — 

When all things else seemed dearth. 

WITHIN THIS GARDEN 

Within this garden, flowers rare, 

Grow in profusion everywhere. 

There's tall pale lillies, white and fair — 

And roses scattered here and there. 

Thinks and daisies, violets, too — 

And morning glories freshed with dew: 

Bridal wreath and carnation. 

And other blooms of creation. 

Each day I come to spend an hour. 
And meditate upon God's power. 
Surrounded here with lovely things, 
My heart with rapture upward wings. 
I think of children far away. 
Who seldom glimpse a sprig or spray 
Of nature's green, or flower grand, 
So common to our southern land. 

Who gaze with envy as they pass, 
At withered roses through a glass. 
Oh, would that I could gather all. 
And scatter in some tenant hall; 
168— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Then hide behind some hidden door, 
And watch them scramble on the floor — 
To gather up the beauties there, 
And deck themselves with tender care: 

To see a rose in fond embrace 
Pressed lovingly 'gainst some wan face ! 
To see expressed from some poor eye 
A look of joy and ecstasy! 
Oh, such a sight would lift me up, 
And fill with joy my earthly cup; 
'Twould help me on the upward way — 
And make life brighter every day. 



AS EACH DAY 

As each day I older grow, 
Sweetest mem'ries backward flow 
To the cabin on the hill. 
Overlooking the old mill; 
And I hear the soft sweet croon 
Of an old familiar tune. 
Faintly echo on the breeze, 
Mingling with the swaying trees. 

Many years have passed away. 

And my hair is turning gray; 

Noted singers I have heard. 

And my heart has oft been stirred; 

But my mother's voice, to me. 

Echoes of sweet memory — 

Is a melody so sweet — 

Naught on this earth can compete. 

—169— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Love was mingled with each note, 
That came from her gushing throat, 
Lifting up to realms above, 
Curing grief with songs of love. 

Memories of the crystal pool, 
With its limpid waters cool. 
Fondly meeting my embrace, 
Shows a mirrored boyish face; 
And I dream a dream of joy, 
That I am once more a boy; 
And I leap with eager haste. 
Once again its joys to taste, 
And gaze on with fond delight, 
As the mill wheel turns its flight, 
Causing golden clouds to rise. 
Like the rainbow in the skies. 

Now I hear the tinkling bells 
Of the cows in distant dells. 
And within the cabin door, 
See my mother's face once more; 
And the golden setting sun — 
Showing that the day is done — 
Slowly sinks behind the hill, 
Where I hear the whippoorwill. 

Then the chirping buzzy sound, 
That in nature does abound, 
Fills the air with strident notes. 
Coming from discordant throats. 
Lowing cattle homeward bound. 
Calves all welcoming the sound. 
Stars appearing with the dark. 
Then the welcome hound dog's bark. 

-170— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Hark! A hunter's horn quite near 
Falls upon my welcome ear, 
And with a companion boon, 
I 'm off hunting for a coon. 

Through the swamp and marshy brake, 
Past the glen and to the lake, 
Following the old coon's scent, 
Spirit with the chase is blent. 
Sweet the music of the hound. 
Fills the forest all around; 
Echoes from his full deep throat. 
On the distant breezes float. 

Hark ! He bays, his work is done — 
Signals, come on in a run; 
Soon we dig him out of a hole. 
And wedge his tail in a split pole; 
Homeward bound we wend our way. 
Just before the break of day. 
Stretch ourselves upon the floor. 
Daylight comes and still we snore: 

Ah! Old scenes of yesterday! 
How they fade and pass away; 
Leaving us in age bereft. 
Nothing but sweet memory left; 
Yet as evening twilight gleams. 
Oft we see them in our dreams. 
See our mother's smiling face, 
Visit each familiar place. 

Now I lay — she's near me now, 
Softly strokes my dampened brow; 
If I should . . . e'er I wake — 
/ pray — Lord — soul — take. 

—171 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

ROSALINE 

I saw your picture^ Rosaline, 

Just as you were in childhood's glow; 
And though your face is changed I ween — 

Your head like mine, as white as snow — 
I only saw you as you were, 

When love's sweet dream first stirred your heart. 
And mocking bird, sweet chorister — 

Sang on, while cupid cast his dart. 

Full many moons have cast their shade 

Since last we stood and plighted troth; 
E 'er long, the mattock and the spade 

May ope our graves; for death is wrath 
Of time, delaying ripened fruit. 

And soon we'll pass from earthly scene, 
And in immortal life's pursuit — 

May meet again, oh, Rosaline! 

'Tis sad, the changes of the years 

Leave blighted heart hopes in their wake, 
And many are the bitter tears 

We shed, as retrospect we take: 
Yet there is joy in looking back, 

A joy that mingles with sweet pain. 
And though we suffer torture's rack. 

Sweet memory, our hearts enchain. 

Your picture brought, oh, Rosaline, 

The past gone years of yesterday; 
The swelling buds o' spring's deep green. 

E'er form was bent and head was gray; 

—172— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



When ardent hopes of youth were bright, 
And dream ships gaily sailed away, 

And life seemed full of joy's delight, 
And heart was singing night and day. 

Now, Rosaline, I'm bending low — 

I'll soon enrich old Mother Earth — 
Soon flowers on my grave they'll strow, 

To honor my poor mortal worth. 
Once more I kiss your picture face — 

Ah, me, dear girl, I wish 'twere you. 
And long for just one last embrace. 

Before I say, adieu, adieu. 



MEMORY IS SWEETLY CALLING 

Balmy breezes gently blowing, 
Ripening fields of grain, all glowing. 
Bobolink, to mate is calling, 
Down from trees the fruit is falling, 
Summer time is here. 

In the azure skies, are gleaming 
Tints of golden colors, beaming. 
On the wing, song birds are flying. 
Singing praise all glorifying. 

Summer time is here. 

Rustling leaves to breeze are swaying. 
Squirrels here and there are playing. 
Katydids with noisy singing, 
On the air their buzz are flinging. 
Summer time is here. 

—173— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Down beneath the weeping willow, 
With a hard root for a pillow, 
Dreamy thoughts go outward drifting. 
With the golden clouds all shifting, 
Summer time is here. 

Overhead, the boughs all drooping, 
Like an aged man all stooping. 
Tears seem from the leaves all dripping, 
Downward, downward, ever slipping, 
Summer time is here. 

Faint in distance, song of reapers. 
Rustling vines and trailing creepers, 
Swaying moss with graceful curling, 
Rhythmic streamlets softly purling. 
Summer time is here. 

Mem-o-ry is sweetly calling 
To the mind, past scenes enthralling. 
Youthful voices gaily singing. 
On the old grape vine a swinging, 
Summer time is here. 

Pine trees swaying, always sighing. 
Ozone breezes, purifying, 
Mem-o-ry, o' sweetly calling, 
To the heart past scenes enthralling. 
Summer time is here. 

MAGGIE 

Most heartless, almost vain coquette, 
Oh, spare me and be mine; 

Thy beauties hath my heart beset^ 
The power all is thine. 

-174— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Such beauty as thou hast in form, 

In body, and in fine — 
No other girl hath such a charm, 

Nor eyes like those of thine. 

Oh, spare me, beautiful Maggie, spare, 

Or wretched be my part; 
Thou art so beautiful, fresh and fair. 

That thou hast won my heart. 

PASSING OF BARLEY CORN 

I am sitting here in sorrow. 

Grieving for old barley corn; 
He is leaving us tomorrow. 

And it makes me feel forlorn ; 
For his charming friendly presence 

Will be banished from the gang. 
And the substitute of essence. 

May cause each of us to hang. 

Ah ! The bygone years of pleasure 

Will be treasured in the heart; 
And the strict old legal measure 

Will cause many tears to start. 
For we'll miss the dear old bottle, 

With the cork in its old snout. 
And the fumes mixed with the splottle. 

As we poured the contents out. 

And we'll think of song and dancing. 
Mixed with merriment and shout. 

While old barley corn, entrancing. 
Was at hand or close about. 



—175— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

And the melting of the feeling, 
That came o'er us with a rush — 

As old barley corn was stealing 

Through our brain to make us gush. 

And the tears in eyes, all blinking, 

Brought about by drinking booze — 
And the terrible heart sinking, 

Caused by barley corn's abuse — 
We will pass up for the morrow, 

And for just one drink we'll sigh — 
For the mem'ry will cause sorrow, 

And we'll feel so awful dry. 

To recall will fill with yearning. 

And will parch us like a drouth. 
And while memory is churning. 

Wish the bottle to the mouth; 
And in dreams, while gently sleeping. 

Just before the break of morn. 
We will catch ourselves a weeping,^ 

For one drink of barley corn. 



SUPPOSE THE MOTIVE 

Suppose the motive prompting me, 

Was just the praise of men — 
That I might in the papers see. 

From some one's facile pen — 
My name in type of largest size 

Upon the foremost page — 
And something said that I might prize, 

And leave as heritage ! 
-176— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Would it be wrong or cause you loss, 

E'en though all this be so — 
To speak a word that would emboss, 

And cause my heart to glow? 

The roses spread o'er graves of dead. 

Is but an empty show: 
A garland on a living head 

Is better to bestow; 
Then let the gracious gift be mine 

While still a living breath. 
And let the giving hand be thine — 

Before I sleep in death. 

TREES PLANTED TO MEMORY OF 

NICK T. PEGUES, Jr., AND S. M. MAUNEY, 

AT EARLE, ARKANSAS, 
NOVEMBER 11, 1921 

To S. M. Mauney and Nick Pegues, 
In loving memory we plant these trees. 
Each, true to duty, at country's call — 
Left home and loved ones; yea! gave their all. 



No longer loved ones at the door 

Will greet with smiling face — 
No longer, when the day is o'er, 

Will be the fond embrace — 
But each sad heart will ever crave. 

In sorrow and despair — 
The loved form lying in the grave — 

Once beautiful and fair. 



-177- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

As emblems of immortal life, 

We plant for each a tree, 
And pray that each, in beauty rife — 

May bloom eternally; 
But as we die to live again — 

E'en so must each of these, 
Like germinating seeds of grain — 

Again to meet the breeze. 

And when at last our toil is o'er. 

And we shall pass away — 
To journey to that blessed shore 

Where all's eternal day — 
May birds nest in these trees and sing 

Their songs of praise and love — 
And grieving hearts a comfort bring. 

To lift their thoughts above. 



MOTHERS OF OLD 

How well we remember 

The mothers of old, 
Whose smiling sweet faces 

Showed hearts of pure gold. 
Dear home loving women — 

The husband's sweet pride- 
In whom sons and daughters 

In love could confide. 

Ah! bright were the faces 
That gathered around, 

Where embers were glowing 
And mother was found; 
—178— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



And many sweet counsels 
In simple words came — 

From a home loving heart, 
Without blemish or shame. 

Ah! clean simple pleasures 

Held forth in those days; 
No fox trots or huggings, 

Or underworld plays. 
The lassies were modest, 

And mothers were there — 
To look after loved ones 

With tender, sweet care. 

The lads were all timid 

And full of respect; 
Would willingly die, 

A girl to protect; 
And never was heard 

An evil remark — 
About any woman — 

In street or in park. 

The courting was honest, 

And open, those days; 
And both sons and daughters. 

Were taught virtuous ways. 
Though simple their pleasures. 

Contentment was there — 
And home loving firesides. 

Made brighter the glare. 



-179- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



MY LITTLE GRANDSON 

My dainty, darling little boy, 
You fill my heart with sweetest joy; 
With love you've bound it up so tight, 
I'm almost giddy with delight. 

What gives you such a loving sway — 
O'er hearts you meet with every day? 
Is it those eyes of lovely blue — 
That so bespeaks a nature true? 

Or can it be that curly head — 
Has woven 'round our hearts a thread 
Of love so strong, it seems divine ! 
Oh, lovely boy! My heart is thine. 

Oh, dainty, dimpled, laughing face — 
In which your father's face I trace — 
Each lineament, in which I see 
Your father, in his infancy. 

You've simply filled my heart with love. 
I pray to Him who rules above, 
To guide your foosteps as you grow, 
And keep you from all sin and woe. 

I'd like to keep you as you are — 
A winsome little baby star — 
But well I know in coming years. 
The chances are, you'll shed some tears. 

So, baby mine, I'll pray for you — 
And ask of God, you to endue 
With power from His throne above, 
To conquer all you meet with love. 



—180— 




'My dainty, darling little boy. 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



NOW AS THE LEAVES FALL 

Now as the leaves fall one by one, 

And blustering winds are blowing; 
And harvest's season's work is done. 

The threshing and the mowing; 
I gaze with sadness on the scene, 

Of nature all a-changing — 
From flowers of spring and carpets green. 

To withered stubble ranging. 

The straw in mounds are in the field, 

And happy cattle gather; 
The proof of an abundant yield, 

And pleasant harvest weather; 
But nature 's bare, and leafless trees 

Seem sighing with a sadness — 
At coming of old winter's freeze — 

Destroying spring's sweet gladness. 

The birds are gone — no songs we hear — 

No longer footsteps loiter 
Along the banks of brooklets clear, 

Or crystal streams of water. 
No graceful stems of waving rush 

To greet the eye with pleasure; 
But withered leaves and mire and slush, 

And dead things without measure. 

The valleys now spread out to view, 
That once were decked with flowers. 

Where sweetest balmy breezes blew. 
Refreshed by April showers — 

—181— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



No longer shows the carpet green. 
Or sign of spring's sweet cheering, 

But killed by angry winter's spleen — 
No beauty's in the clearing. 

No longer skies of azure blue, 

With golden sunbeams shining; 
But darkened clouds of dismal hue, 

And rain and sleet combining. 
No longer cherry blossoms blow. 

Nor lilies with sweet meekness — 
But flurry clouds of drizzling snow, 

Fills nature full of bleakness. 

LIFE'S SANDS ARE FLOWING 

The sands of life are flowing one by one. 
And soon will come the setting of my sun. 
The soul will leave this crumbling shell of clay. 
And I will be forgotten, in a day. 

They'll place sweet flowers on my senseless frame. 
And on a marble headstone, write my name. 
Then leave me all alone to silent sleep. 
And as I've sown, on judgment day I'll reap. 

Those whom I leave behind will plod along — 
And grief will be forgotten in a song. 
Some loved one may, in after passing years, 
In retrospection, shed a few sad tears; 
But as earth's burdens on their shoulders bear. 
All thought of me will vanish with the care; 
I'll silent sleep within old Mother Earth, 
While flowers from my soil will spring to birth. 

—182— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Some careless feet may tread upon the ground — 
E'en plows may level down the mellow mound — 
And grains of wheat may meet the gentle blow 
Of evening zephyrs, in the twilight glow; 
And at the ending of the harvest days, 
The cattle, o'er my melting form may graze, 
And possibly, an humble weed may spring — 
Whose goodly seed may cause a bird to sing. 

Then as I sleep, unconscious of my lot, 
A tree may grow and beautify the spot. 
And some sweet maid, with handsome lad — and bold- 
May list' once more to the sweetest story told; 
But as they sit beneath the grateful shade — 
All thoughtless of the mattock and the spade— 
And joyous plan a fuure, fair and bright 
In fairy land, where there should be no night — 
The tide of time, resistless, flowing by, 
Will echo both to songs of laughter and sigh, 
For many will dance, while others will mourn, 
As loved ones in a hearse to graveyards are borne. 

And over and over, and over you'll see — 
The same thing going on, eternally: 
A shout and a song! A sob and a sigh! 
Today we are horn, tomorrow we die. 

A MASTER MASON'S ADVICE 
TO HIS SON 

Be honest, my boy, 

Always act on the square; 
Take no advantage. 

It is best to be fair. 

—183- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Though hardships may come, 
And your spirit may rend, 

Fight nobly my boy, 
It is best in the end. 

The lane may be long, 

And the burdens may bear, 
But somewhere it ends. 

And you '11 be happy there ! 
Oh, I know sometimes 

We are tempted to wrong. 
But pass it up, boy. 

To resist makes you strong. 

Each time you succeed. 

And temptation's put down, 
Will add to your strength 

And make brighter your crown. 
The face of all men 

Is an index, my boy. 
Of how they have lived — 

Whether sin, or clean joy: 

Each wrinkle doth show 

Like a plain written page — 
What that life has been — 

On this old human stage; 
And the eye, my boy. 

That can look straight at you, 
Is the eye of one — 

To attach yourself to. 

For the eye that shifts, 

And returns not your stare — 
Is the eye of one 

It is safe to beware. 



—^184— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The man who is square — 
Who has nothing to fear — 

Will look at you straight, 
And you'll find him sincere. 

There is about him, 

That will cause you to see — 
The greatness of truth 

And real nobility. 
Now, truth is, my boy, 

A divine attribute; 
It Cometh from God, 

Unchanging, absolute. 

Apply it to life, 

To each act and each deed — 
Though slow it may seem — 

In the end, you'll succeed; 
For truth after all. 

Is a foundation stone — 
On which you can build 

An everlasting throne. 

Take heed to my words, 

In your heart sink them deep; 
Sooner or later, 

A reward you will reap. 
Then when the time comes 

For you to ascend — 
You will leave behind, 

Full many a friend. 



— 185- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



TO MILDRED BRANDES 

The lovely rose in its repose^ 

Delightful to the view — 
The violet blue refreshed with dew, 

Cannot compare with you. 

Sweet joy's surj^rise from thy dark eyes, 

Like sunrise o'er the hill — 
Glimmers a light so dazzling bright, 

It gives my heart a thrill. 

Th}'^ shy sweet glance doth all entrance, 
And gives my heart a glow — 

Like rainbow tints of golden glints. 
As delicate as snow. 

Oh, little girl with head of curl. 
And ways so cute and sweet — 

I wish for thee both love and glee, 
And joy on earth complete. 



TO MY WIFE: ON FORTIETH ANNIVERSARY 
OF WEDDED LIFE 

This day makes forty years ago 

Since we were wed, my dear; 
And though your hair is white as snow — 

To me, you have no peer. 



—186— 




I: 



'Oh, little girl with head of curl. 



SONGS FROxM THE OZARKS 

Though wrinkles now show in your face — 
Your form though bent with age — 

Within, your soul is full of grace — 
A cleanly written page. 

Although some silent tears we've shed, 
And ups and downs weVe seen — 

In main, a happy life we've led 
Amidst the changing scene. 

Now sitting by our own hearthstone 

In meditative mood — 
Dwelling upon the love you've shown, 

Fills me with gratitude. 

I know the heart within you dear, 

Is full of love's sweet glow; 
It never yet has failed me here, 

And never will, I know. 

We've worked and struggled side by side — 
We've had some aches and pains — 

Though by misfortune often tried. 
We've reached the level plains. 

And now we're on our downward path — 

We're traveling to the grave — 
May naught occur to cause us wrath. 

Or hate to make us rave. 

And when at last we lay us down 

To rest beneath the sod — 
May each of us have a bright crown — 

To carry to our God. 



-187— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Dedicated to Thomas B. Weaver Class^ 

A. AND A. S. Rite, Valley of Little 

Rock, April 19-20-21, 1920, 583 in 

THE Class. 

THE RUINED TEMPLE AT JERUSALEM 

The scene was sad and desolate, 

And Israel's heart was crushed; 
The temple in a ruined state. 

And sound of praise was hushed; 
Three full score years and ten had passed, 

Since Neburzaradan — 
Had, by the will of God, at last — 

Destroyed it as per plan. 

The monumental heap of stone 

Lay scattered here and there; 
In Babylon, old Israel's groan 

Was full of deep despair. 
They hung their harps on willow trees, 

And full of agony — 
Their voices filled the evening breeze 

With supplicating plea. 

The stately columns of the hall 

Wrought out by master hand — 
Like ghostly phantoms to recall 

A scene that once was grand — 
Towered aloft to heaven's dome 

Like sentinels of God — 
To guide old Israel's turn to home, 

Relieved from chast'ning rod. 



■188- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

The arches of the colonnade — 

All glistening — marble white — 
In curves of true proportion made — 

Was a sad, lovely sight. 
The shadow of the moon 's soft beam — 

Like tiny flakes of snow — 
Cast over all a silvery gleam, 

A soft sweet radiant glow. 

The broken column to recall 

The gift of HIRAM'S skill— 
The arch beneath the crumbling wall — 

Each gave the heart a thrill. 
The silence that seemed so profound — 

The distant courts in view — 
The vastness of the sacred ground 

Where once they worshipped true — 

All seemed to lift the heart to God, 

And silent prayers were said — 
For those who lay beneath the sod — 

Old Israel's sainted dead. 
With saddened face, Zerrubabel — 

Of princely house, the chief — 
Returned to Babylon, to tell 

The great king of his grief. 

True to the vows that once he gave. 

Though tempted sore indeed — 
With wealth and power to enslave — 

Was loyal to his creed. 
Before a king whose sceptre swayed 

A mighty, vast domain — 
Stood for the truth, and undismayed — 

Refused dishonor's stain. 

—189- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Found of true worth by royalty, 

The great king raised him up, 
And granting unto him his j^lea, 

Removed the bitter cup; 
Restored the golden vessels to 

The Holy House of God- 
That Israel might worship true, 

Again, on sacred sod. 

Decreed a band of soldiers brave, 

To conduct safely home; 
And orders to dominions gave — 

Beneath all heaven's dome — 
To help him all the way along 

In his praiseworthy task — 
And greet him with a cheery song, 

And grant whate'er he'd ask. 

Here see, new soldiers of the Rite — 

Ye class five eighty-three — 
That truth and loyalty is might — 

As taught in the degree. 
Though death may stare you in the face. 

Be loyal, true and brave; 
Have faith in truth and God embrace, 

And vou need never crave. 



SEE THE LITTLE STARS 

See the little stars a-jDceping? 

All is clear and bright tonight, 
And my lad}^, she is sleeping — 

Robed in dainty garments white. 



■190- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Ah! she wist' not they are blinking 
On her sweet face with delight — 

While in jealous thought I'm thinking — 
Jealous of the stars the sight. 

See how slyly they seem winking, 
While my love lies dreaming there? 

To my jealous heart seems drinking 
Nectar, from her lips so rare: 

Oh, ye little stars soft shining, 

How I envy you the sight! 
For my heart with love repining. 

Longs a glimpse of her tonight. 

Sleep not love, but gently waking. 
Put the wicked stars to flight — 

And all other thoughts forsaking, 

Think of me, thine own true knight. 



Ah! the daylight now is breaking. 
And the sun will soon appear, 

Then I'll see my loved one shaking 
Out her tresses in the air. 

And her maiden blush will greet me 
If she sees me standing here — 

In the shadow of the oak tree, 
Hence I'd better disappear. 

Farewell, love, the morn is breaking, 
Soon the horizon will clear. 

And my leave I must be taking — 
Or you'll catch me standing here. 



—191 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



A RARE JEWEL 

I hold for her a jewel rare — 
A jewel that's without compare. 
Although a king might give his queen 
The finest jewel ever seen — 
Yet still this jewel held for her, 
Is one whose value she'll prefer, 
And fill her heart with sweet content, 
Until her life on earth is spent. 

'Tis true, to woman's heart is dear, 
A brilliant diamond in each ear. 
And rings upon her fingers, too. 
That flash and glitter to the view — 
And yet this jewel, rarer still. 
Will give her very heart a thrill 
No other jewel ever gave, 
And for which she will ever crave. 

This jewel is so very rare. 

To get it, most of them despair; 

For but few men possess this gem. 

Fit for a royal diadem — 

For ah! it takes all manhood's best 

To go through life and stand the test. 

Reserving for some future mate — 

A cleanly life, to procreate ! 

And now this j ewel I will name ; 
'Tis just a pure life without shame. 
You offer her, like she has led — 
When first you ask her if she'll wed. 



192- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

To crown her as you would be crowned, 
With as chaste a life as that you found ; 
Thus jeweled she would rather be — 
Than have all pearls within the sea. 

A PLEA FOR DUMB BRUTE 

Cold winter's here with rain and sleet, 

And everything seems drear; 
The lowing cattle's dismal bleat 

Is full of sickening fear ; 
Poor things, exposed to winter's blast — 

You cause our hearts to grieve; 
You wander like some poor outcast, 

No shelter to relieve. 

Upon the barren meadow land. 

All wretched and distrest, 
With shaking, shivering forms you stand, 

Too cold to take a rest. 
Oh, careless, thoughtless, heartless man, 

How can you happy be — 
When these dumb brutes, whom God did plan. 

Are full of misery? 

Do you forget the human joy 

When milk from udders flow — 
And to what use you them employ, 

As through this life you go? 
Do you forget the wailing cry 

Of baby's feeble voice — 
When mother's milk had proven dry — 

And cow milk was the choice? 

—19s— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Oh, pause, forgetful man, and think — 

Let love come in your heart, 
And help these poor dumb brutes that shrink — 

From winter's chilling dart. 
They cannot speak to you their wants, 

But their appealing eye 
Should fill a loving heart with haunts, 

And cause a bitter sigh. 

Build them a stall or two that's warm, 

And feed them what they need; 
To see them shivering in the storm, 

Cause loving hearts to bleed. 
Show pity as God has shown you, 

And give them loving care, 
And as content their cuds they chew — 

You'll he repaid, I swear. 

SONG OF THE LABORER 

I'm but a tired and broken man. 

Who'd like to take his ease — 
And rest the balance of life's span 

Beneath his own fig trees. 

I've struggled hard for sixty years 

To keep the wolf from door; 
Suspense has often brought forth tears. 

Because I was so poor. 

iVe lain me down to sleep at night. 

And tossed from side to side — 
And thought and planned 'til broad daylight, 

Some way to stem the tide. 

194— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



My soul with anguish oft hath wrung— 
My heart oft throbbed with fears — 

The sickening mental worries stung, 
And filled my eyes with tears. 

I'd like declining years to spend 

In peace and happiness, 
With some old early boyhood friend — 

Relieved from all distress. 



PASSING AWAY 

They are slowly dying 
And passing away. 

And leave me here sighing 
For old yesterday. 

My heart now is crying 
With grievous pain, 

For friends who are lying 
In death's cold domain. 

How long now defying 
Shall I remain here, 

All sobbing and sighing 
On this hemisphere? 

Oh, why this inclining 
To lay me to sleep, 

In cold death reclining. 
My vigils to keep? 



—195- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Of life I am tiring, 

And death would I greet; 
With spirits conspiring, 

Old friends would I meet. 

Then through the air flying- 

In regions above — 
New scenes there descrying, 

With friends that I love. 

Then see to my shrouding 
And do not delay — 

The time is close crowding 
When I must away. 

Their spirits are calling — 
The echoes I hear — 

Though faintly, are falling 
Today on my ear. 



WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN 

What might have been had I been true. 
Is just a thought that fills with rue; 
The many errors of past life. 
Oft bruised the heart of my sweet wife. 

Had I been true and hewed to line — 
Avoided women and red wine — 
Today in comfort I might rest — 
Be free from care, with conscience blest. 



—196- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I Ve scattered reckless, much of wealth — 
Committed many sins by stealth. 
I Ve gone the rounds both night and day, 
And for those rounds I now must pay. 

Were I to suffer all alone, 
I would not grieve so much, or moan. 
But she to whom I promised fair. 
Must part of the sin burden bear. 

She gave her girlhood's faith to me. 
And clung like vine, wreathed to a tree, 
While I in manhood's youthful prime. 
Just dragged the vine in mud and slime. 

I've seen dark rings beneath her eyes, 
Brought on by sleepless nights and sighs. 
I've seen her blush and sob with shame, 
Whilst bending o'er my drunken frame. 

Yet, spite of all such sorrows bring — 
She, true to me, in love did cling, 
And through all sickness, and all pain — 
With loving kindness did remain. 

The bad men get the best of wives. 
Who stick close to them all their lives — 
While many men of real true worth. 
Just seem to get the scums of earth. 

^Tis true I've tried to make it up — 
Tried to remove the bitter cup — 
But ah! she smiles so sadly now — 
In grief, my head, I humbly bow. 

—197— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I love her better in old age, 
Than e'er I did in youthful rage. 
In grievous sorrow I repent^ 
The wicked, sinful life I spent. 

Could I recall the days of youth, 
My vows to her I'd keep in truth; 
No sinful thing would I indulge. 
But open life to her divulge. 

But ah! too late, what might have been. 
Does not blot out a life of sin. 
The pure sweet heart, I now so prise — 
Sad memory, will agonize. 

Now, always sad, will be her face — 
Each wrinkle shows a sorrow's trace — 
And as I gaze in her sad eyes — 
My heart is filled with bitter sighs. 



NO POETRY FOR ME, HE SAID 

No poetry for me, he said, 

For women it may do; 
On stronger food I must be fed, 

Than maids with eyes of blue: 

I care naught for the rippling streams, 

Nor rainbow tints aglow — 
Nor for the poet's misty dreams. 

That through his brain doth flow. 



—198- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Tomorrow morn I may be dead — 

For life is short you know — 
And I must leave something ahead, 

If happen I should go. 

There is no other life of bliss 

So far as I can tell; 
I'd better get the best of this, 

Than in such dreams to dwell: 



That night the doctor came to see 

This same man, lying low; 
His heart was full of misery, 

And face was full of woe: 

Said he, I '11 miss the birds ' sweet songs- 
I'll miss the flowing streams — 

I '11 miss the happy passing throngs, 
With all their pleasant dreams. 

I never got the best of this — 

I closed my heart and eye, 
To all the beauty and the bliss — 

And now I soon must die; 
I passed the full blown blushing rose 

With all its fragrance sweet; 
I passed the lily in its pose — 

Tramped all beneath my feet. 

I must leave everything behind 
That I have gathered here; 

Ah! me, I have been fatal blind 
To things I now hold dear. 



—19^— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Oh, sing the poet's songs to me — 

The songs of Israel's king — 
That floated out from sea to sea, 

On melody 's sweet wing. 

Just read me David's one sweet song — 

Oh, Lord, my shepherd lead — 
In those green pastures all along, 

Where all Thy dear sheep feed. 
Then when through valley of dark death, 

He hath lead safely through — 
And I shall breathe immortal breath — 

I'll sing sweet songs anew. 



OH, FOR THE CALM 

Oh, for the calm, the peaceful rounds 

Of country life so dear; 
To revel in those blissful sounds 

So pleasing to my ear; 
To rest in peace beneath the trees — 

At full length to recline — 
To feel, to drink the cooling breeze. 

And know that all was mine. 

To sit by rockbound babbling brook 

Where pleasant thoughts abound; 
While idly on my lap, a book. 

Near me, my good old hound; 
To view the trout in sportive glee, 

And sometimes on the hook — 
Thus I would like to live and die. 

In some secluded nook. 



-200— 




"To sit by rockbound babbling brook." 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



A MASONIC PRAYER 

Almighty God; 

Omnipotence divine; 
Shield and defend us, 

The power is Thine. 
Thy followers here 

With reverence bow, 
To receive Thy blessings. 

All mercy show. 

Tender each heart 

In Thy presence this day; 
Take from us all. 

Each guilty sin, we pray; 
From paths of duty, 

We've oft gone astray, 
Yet desire in our hearts 

To mend our way; 
Live better lives 

For old Masonry. 

Today, in this house. 

We pray You, dear Lord, 
That each one present 

May study Thy word; 
At home and abroad, 

MajT^ our lights so shine. 
That the world may know. 
Masonry's divine. 

May love and charity 

Be in us all; 
In acts and good deeds, 

May we all grow tall ; 

—201— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



May each in love, 

Reprove his brother's fault; 
If going astray — 

Plead with him to halt. 

Oh, may unkind words 

Never be spoken — 
For fear some brother's 

Heart may be broken; 
May we live in joy, 

In peace, and in love; 
Until death takes us 

To the lodge above. 

THE CALLED vs. PROFESSIONAL 

In language mete, divine and sweet, 
To lift one's thoughts above; 

With love replete, God's servants treat — 
Of His great blessed love. 

Not all you meet in pulpit seat. 

Are servants called by God; 
Some with deceit full and complete. 

Are but the devil's clod. 

God does not make the great mistake 

Of choosing such a one. 
To undertake poor souls to wake. 

And trust His only Son. 

False prophets are the bane and bar 

Of many a precious soul; 
They do but mar, and oft debar 

From heaven's joyous goal. 
-202— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



True servants beam like stars that gleam, 

And spread resplendent light; 
The gospel's cream, from them doth stream 

To wash away sin's blight. 

Such we esteem as in the scheme 

Of God's almighty plan, 
To preach the theme of love supreme, 

And save poor fallen man. 

Though made of dust, God does them trust 

'Midst life's tempestuous wave; 
And so they must, their lives adjust 

To God's own pFan to save. 

Professional man, God will you ban. 

So we must be discreet; 
No partisan of class or clan — 

Can keep you from defeat. 

Sometimes we fear that devils here. 

With faces painted white — 
Just engineer upon this sphere, 

To keep us from God's light. 

Whom God doth call, we one and all 

Respect upon this earth; 
His words appall and then enthrall, 

And sinners seek new birth. 

You may have brain, speech to enchain, 

And a great crowded church; 
'Twill be in vain, there'll be no gain. 

Though you may crow and perch. 

—203— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



And in the end, when you descend — 

Old Satan's hand to shake — 
My reverend friend, your soul will blend- 

And with him hell partake. 



'TIS SOLEMN NIGHT 
(A War Poem) 

'Tis solemn night — 
The stars shine bright — 
Sleep calmly, France, 
Thy sons will fight! 

See! they advance 

With upraised lance. 

In battle array — 

To chase the hated foe away! 

The murderous band 
Can never stand 
In virtue's way 
'Til break of day ! 

See ! now thy hosts. 

Like silent ghosts. 

In solid phalanx 

March on their trench to thin their ranks ! 

Oh, God of love. 
Who dwells above ! 
Be with our sons, 
Our loved ones! 



—204— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Oh, in Thy might 

Help them to fight, 

For home and right — 

Send legions from above tonight ! 

Oh, fill with fear 
The vandal's ear. 
That they may flee 
In trepidy: 

Nor stop the scum 

Through Belgium; 

But make them flee 

Beyond the Rhine to the Red Sea! 

Then voice we'll raise 
In thanks and praise — 
A new song sing 
To Thee, our King! 

Then hand in hand — 

A Christian band — 

In tender mood, 

We'll help our foes whom we subdued. 



OH, DROP ME A LINE 

Oh, drop me a line expressing in part. 
Some tender emotion that comes from the heart; 
Some touching sweet sentence, recalling to view, 
A scene of our childhood reminding of you. 



-205- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



It may be a meadow or just a grape vine, 

Or 'neath a tree's shadow that mem'ry will twine; 

Then, fond recollection, recalling to view, 

Will stir the affection while thinking of you. 

It may be in vision I'll see your dear face, 

And dreamily linger each feature to trace; 

Then while the fire glimmers and embers burn low, 

Sweet mem'ry with rapture will ardently glow. 

Just say that you saw me one night in a dream. 
You saw me, although but a glimmering gleam; 
Yet the lines of my face were easy to trace. 
And found in your heart a most loving embrace. 

Then drop me a line, some soul thought impart. 
To tender and quicken and pulsate the heart; 
Some thought that may ever remind me of you. 
And cheer me as onward this life I pursue. 



THE AUTUMN OF MY LIFE 

The autumn of my life draws near, 
Sweet spring has passed away; 

The winter season now is here, 
My form will soon decay. 

The dream life of my youth is gone- 
It drifted out to sea — 

Without a chart to guide it on — 
To ports of mystery. 



—206— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Strange isles were seen in distant miles, 

And beauty ever stirred 
The heart and soul with joyous smiles, 

While music sweet was heard. 

From port to port it ever sailed, 

Nor ever anchored deep; 
Full many phantom ships were hailed. 

As swiftly by they'd sweep. 

Just on and on it ploughed the deep 

With all its sails unfurled; 
Full many a storm did o'er it sweep. 

And mighty billows hurled. 

At last it homeward bent its prow 

With sails all tattered — torn — 
And hoary frost upon its bow. 

And timbers old and worn. 

And now it swings at anchor's length, 

Just drifting to and fro — 
As if to try the rusty strength 

Of the chain, and sink below. 

Soon worn and wearied with the test, 

A link wiU give away; 
Then the old ship will seek its rest — 

Will sink, and soon decay. 

WRINKLES 

There's a difference in the wrinkles 

That you find in many folks; 
Some have eyes all full of twinkles. 

And are full of jolly jokes; 

—207- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

'Tis a pleasant thing to meet them. 

For their humor never fails; 
And they smile, where e'er you greet them 

With a wrinkle that regales. 

There are soft and sweet old faces 

With a peace in every line; 
In each feature you find traces 

Of a life of love divine; 
You can trace the joy and pleasure 

Of the sweetness of each life, 
By the true and royal measure 

Seen in faces free from strife. 

Then there's wrinkles, hard old wrinkles — 

In some faces that you meet — 
That in foxy, cunning twinkles — 

Tells a life of low deceit; 
And the index on their faces 

Tells you all you need to know — 
For the wrinkles show the traces 

Of a life of sin and woe. 



NEGLECTED CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS 
GRAVES 

Here's where our gallant soldiers lie. 

Neglected in this spot; 
No stone to mark their resting place. 

No fence enclose their lot; 
It seems these people here forgot 

The mem'ry of their brave; 



—208- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Neglected in this lonely spot, 

No flowers deck their grave. 
And yet, Alas! a poet's tear 

Is all that I can give — 
I '11 sing their praise in songs most dear, 

As long as I shall live. 



LET US NOT LOOK FOR TROUBLE, 
'TIL TROUBLE TROUBLES US 

We cannot cross the river. 

Until the bridge we reach; 
We cannot feel joy's quiver, 

Until this truth we teach. 

Let us not look for trouble, 

'Til trouble troubles us ; 
'Twill only make it double. 

And keep us in a muss. 

The mind is so created — 

That suggestions of joy. 
Will keep us from all hatred. 

And things that would annoy. 

But then, if the suggestion. 

Is one that's full of fear, 
'Twill fill us with dejection, 

And make us shed a tear. 

Then keep your face bright shining 
With thoughts that brighten up; 

'Twill keep you from repining. 
And joy '11 o 'erf low your cup. 

—209— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



OLD CROSS VINE SMOKE 

Did you ever in your ramble 

During boyhood's happy day — 
When from mother you would shamble, 

And with cunning steal away — 
Down where old cross vines were growing — 

Near some massive, grand old oak- — 
And while gentle breeze was blowing, 

Cut a vine or two and smoke? 

Oh, the joy, without expression. 

As you puffed the old vine stem — 
Though in after years' confession — 

It was no Havana gem; 
Yet the pleasure, though but fleeting. 

Filled your very soul with joy — 
And e'en now, with old friends meeting — 

Wish you were again a boy. 

Now, today, in silence smoking — 

Gazing as the smoke ascends — 
Old cross vines seem all a joking. 

And my spirit with them blends; 
And some feeling seems invoking 

Me, to steal to that old oak — 
And although it may prove choking — 

Cut a vine or two and smoke. 

SPRING IS COMING, GENTLE ANNIE 

Spring is coming, gentle Annie, 
And the trees will blossom soon; 

Then young men, "perhaps dear Dannie' ' — 
'Neath the soft rays of the moon — 

-210— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Will again repeat the story 

That so often has been told, 
That will fill your heart with glory — 

Ever new, yet very old. 

Ah, the whisper, ''dear, I love you" — 

Fills the very soul with bliss; 
And like moisture of the fresh dew. 

Is the ecstasy of a kiss; 
And the melting of emotion — 

Like an agony of joy — 
Seems to tell you there's no lotion 

Like your own true blue-eyed boy. 

And the soft pale moon all gleaming, 

Seems more beautiful by far — 
When of love your heart is dreaming — 

Than the brilliant eastern star; 
And it seems to have the power. 

Just to make your feelings glow. 
Like the blushing of a flower. 

Watered by the streams below. 

NOBODY WANTS DREAMS 

Nobody wants dreams. Will, 

They don't care to pay 
For sighs and heartaches 

That brought hairs of gray! 
They don't care for beauty 

That's bought with a sigh, 
And born of a travail 

That tear dimmed each eye! 

—211— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



'Tis only the remnants 

You offer for sale, 
Not youthful sweet hopes 

That never grow stale; 
The beautiful dream ships 

That sailed far away 
To sweet fairy islands 

Can never decay. 

Their mem'ry we cherish, 

They never grow old, 
Our most precious treasures, 

They cannot be sold! 
In sweet twilight's evening 

We view them afar. 
They're still onward sailing. 

Their haven a star. 

We all have our dreams. Will, 

We're dreaming today; 
We still send out hope ships. 

Although we are gray. 
I'm glad yours are clean. Will, 

Though washed by your tears, 
For such a pure chastening 

Rewards future years. 

Don't ask me to buy. Will, 

Although sold at cost; 
They're all last spring's garments. 

And will not stand frost. 
Just store them away. Will, 

In memory's urn; 
Some bright sweet spring morning 

The ships may return. 



-212- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



O, I'M ALWAYS DREAMING 

O, I'm always dreaming something 
That in visions seem sublime, 

And I fain would give expression 
Of its beauty in sweet rhyme. 

Like the blossoms of a Maypop 

On its tender vine of green — 
Is a beauty that the artist 

Cannot paint upon his screen — 
So this misty phantom beauty 

That is ever in my mind — 
Always vanishes the moment, 

As I seek the words to find. 

Yet I'm dreaming, ever dreaming, 

As the hours speed on the way ; 
All my thoughts with beauty teeming, 

Like a clustered rose bouquet; 
And the beauty of my vision 

That I can't describe to you. 
Is more lovely than a garden 

Of wild flowers freshed with dew. 

For sweet crystal streams of water. 

Flashing sparkling tints of gold. 
Flows amidst the dreamy vision 

As its beauty doth unfold; 
And I just keep on a dreaming 

As I gaze upon the scene. 
While my thoughts go drifting upward. 

With a soul calm and serene. 



-213— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



O, I fain would give expression, 
But my language fails complete; 

For my dreams are all of heaven, 
And no words are fit or mete. 

MORNING GLORIES 

Morning glories, white and blue, 
Morning glories, fresh with dew. 
Greeting me each breaking dawn. 
On the porch and on the lawn; 
Tender as the moon's soft rays, 
How you fill me with amaze, 
As each morn you show your head. 
Yet the night before seemed dead! 

Dew drop diamonds every morn. 
On each blossom doth adorn. 
Yet e'er comes the noonday's sun, 
Seemeth each one's race is run; 
Like the butterfly on wing, 
Only summer time doth sing. 
And when comes cold winter drear. 
All at once doth disappear — 
So each glory fades away, 
E'er the close of one short day; 
Yet each morning gives new birth. 
Full of lovely beauty's worth. 

Tender seems life's brittle thread: 
Like a bubble overhead — 
Melting in the liquid air — 
Frames decay, life lives elsewhere: 
Though in darkness we now grope^ 
Yet immortal is our hope, 
—214— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



For each heart doth earnest yearn — 

And though dim — new life discern: 

Does not all of nature sing 

A new song each coming spring? 

Yet the autumn winds do sigh, 

As the leaves drop off and die. 

As the seasons come and go, 
Life from death just seems to flow; 
And though once all seemed decay. 
New birth springs from beds of clay: 
Why should we be prone to weep, 
When we lay us down to sleep? 
Does not nature teach us all. 
Life springs up where seeds do fall? 
Frames are but the outer shell. 
Where immortal life doth dwell! 
When immortal leaves the frame — 
Mother Earth enforces claim. 
Life itself cannot decay — 
Does not melt or waste away — 
Then may we not all surmise. 
That in glory we shall rise? 

Though this mystery profound, 
Every mortal doth astound. 
Still, though dimly, we can see 
Traces of divinity; 
For our teachers, earth and skies, 
Tell us nothing ever dies: 
And though future is not clear. 
Nature proves this truth each year. 



—215— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Then like morning glories blue. 
Ever springing up anew, 
Let us hope in paradise, 
That our bodies shall arise. 



I SAW MY HEART 

I saw my heart floating 

In a turbulent stream, 
All helplessly drifting 

'Midst danger supreme. 
Just buffeted onward 

'Midst rotting decay, 
Of sin's so-called pleasure. 

That led it astray. 

'Twas throbbing with anguish, 

And struggling in vain 
To leave the surroundings, 

Its freedom to gain: 
But ever was clinging 

The sins of the past. 
And siren voice, singing. 

Would still hold it fast. 

Just calling and calling, 

Oh, sin tasted sweet! 
And though 'twas appalling. 

It could not retreat. 
It soon was exhausted, 

Could struggle no more — 
Then like a corpse, frosted. 

It drifted to shore. 
-216— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Its beauty had faded, 

And withered and seared — 
It lay on the beach there — 

All stained and besmeared. 
I gazed on it sadly 

And knelt down to pray — 
That God in His goodness 

Would cleanse it the day. 

The scars are still seaming, 

But beauty is there; 
For God's love, redeeming. 

Has mended with care; 
And now though 'tis throbbing, 

'Tis gratitude's beat, 
For all of its service. 

Is laid at God's feet. 



A LITTLE NEGRO GIRL 

A little negro baby girl — 

As happy as could be — 
Was playing 'round a cabin door 

In dear old Tennessee; 
The cotton blossoms were in bloom — 

Her mammy you could see. 
With hoe in hand in nearby field, 

Was toiling like a bee. 

And as she toiled, she sang a song 

That floated on the breeze ; 
A song that had a sad refrain. 

And yet withal did please. 

—217— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

She sang about her baby child — 
Though born of low degree — 

And asked that God would on it smile. 
Though a black child was she. 

She made the words up as she sang — 

No rhetoric was there — 
But somehow something made you feel, 

Her heart was in the air. 
At times her voice seemed to exult, 

And soared in lofty flight; 
And then sank back to lowest key — 

A wailing note of fright. 

Ever, anon, she looked about 

To see if all was well; 
Again returning to her toil, 

That strange sad song would swell. 
She sang about immortal things. 

When souls would take their flight ; 
And prophesied that pleasing thought — 

Her baby would be white. 

Though now its face was ebon black. 

In heav'n 'twould be like snow: 
The thought of it filled her with joy, 

And caused her face to glow. 
A wailing sound broke on the ear — 

The mother fiercely sprung — 
A rattlesnake, all coiled up there — 

Her little babe had stung! 

Then anguish broke in torrent wild — 
In notes of deep despair — 

Oh, help me Lord, oh, spare my child — 
Though black, to me she 's fair ! 
-218— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

I'll ne'er again ask Thee, dear Lord, 
To change the leopard's spot; 

I'll never more again complain — 
Be contented with my lot ! 

Oh, give me back my baby girl, 

To me from heaven sent — 
I'm sorry for my wicked thoughts — 

Dear Lord, I now repent. 
I know in wisdom Thou'st seen fit 

To make the flowers fair; 
Yet close beside those lovely things, 

Thou'st planted weeds with care: 

With Thee, all things are beautiful — 

The low as well as high — 
And even one poor sparrow's fall 

Doth not escape Thine eye — 
Then do forgive my wicked thoughts. 

And let my baby live, 
I'll work and do what seemeth best — 

My life to Thee I '11 give. 



A little negro baby girl — 

As happy as can be — 
Still plays about a cabin door. 

In dear old Tennessee; 
Her mammy in the field close by. 

Is toiling with a hoe ; 
Her happy song is full of praise, 

Her face is all aglow. 

—219- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

The song that floats upon the breeze, 

In volume full and free — 
Bespeaks a soul of happiness — 

And full of jubilee. 
A lesson she has learned, my friend — 

'Twould profit you and me — 
To be contented with our lot — 

Whatever it might be. 

THE MASTER OF OUR LODGE 

Our Master was a grand old man 

Whom brethren did revere; 
He often lectured on the theme 

They loved so much to hear; 
His earnest voice was low and sweet, 

And full of dignity; 
His hair was white, his form was bent 

With age, as all could see. 

But silence reigned when he began, 

And all, attention gave; 
They loved that white-haired, aged man, 

A-nearing to the grave. 
It was a sight to see them all 

Draw close about the east. 
As if in answer to a call — 

Come now, enjoy the feast. 

They hung upon each word he spoke. 

From first unto the end. 
And watched the glistening tears that broke, 

As prayers would ascend. 



—220- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Of all the Masters I have seen, 

He was the best of all; 
In language he was very clean, 

And prompt to duty's call. 

Long years have passed since he was here, 

But still in memory — 
The brethren hold his name most dear — 

^^Old Brother Gregory.'^ 
And silent tears roll down the face 

Of many in our hall, 
As they glance at the honored place — 

His picture on the wall. 

When at the last we're called to die. 
And be, dear Lord, with Thee, 

May the first face that we espy — 
^^Be dear old Gregory/^ 



SEVEN STAGES OF LIFE 

I am an infant at the breast, 
And in my mother's arm I rest; 
I'm free from thought and every care, 
And each one thinks I'm wondrous fair. 
My breath is sweet from mother's milk. 
My skin's as soft as velvet silk. 
They sprinkle me with sweet perfume. 
And bank with flowers all my room. 
They use pink powder on my skin. 
From tip of toe to dimpled chin. 
They sleep me on the softest bed. 
And every comfort o'er me spread. 

—221— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



EIGHTEEN MONTHS OLD 

From mother's breast they're weaning me. 

And I'm unhappy as can be; 

I'm dry and thirsty all day long, 

And cry because I think it's wrong. 

They've taken from me mother's breast, 

And I can neither sleep or rest; 

My heart is sick with baby grief, 

And nothing else will give relief. 

I beg and plead just to partake 

A draught or two, my thirst to slake. 

Close to my mother's side I creep. 

And each refusal makes me weep. 

THREE YEARS OLD 

I'm dad and mamma's little man. 

And love them both as much as can; 

But still I'm 'fraid when it comes night, 

'Cause ghosts come then and fill with fright. 

But dad says, little man be brave — 

A dead man can't come from his grave — 

But Jane told me that it was true — 

And somehow, I believe it, too. 

At any rate, when left alone, 

I think I hear an awful groan. 

And cover up my head real tight. 

To hide the dreadful thing from sight. 

THIRTEEN YEARS OLD 

I'm thirteen years of age today — 
I hate old school, but love to play. 
The sun is hot, the water's cool, 
'Tis hard to have to stay in school: 
The 'rithmetic and grammar, too. 
Is hard to learn and makes me blue. 



— 222 — 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



I cannot see the use of it. 

And both of them I 'd like to quit. 

I wish they'd let me hunt and swim. 

And fish for perch and trout, and brim — 

I'm sure it would be more to me. 

Than learning this old rule of three. 

TWENTY-ONE YEARS OLD 

My education's now complete, 

And with the world I must compete; 

But still new lessons I must learn. 

While striving a support to earn. 

'Tis just another kind of school, 

But still more rigid is its rule; 

For here you must prove merit's worth. 

Or soon you'll seek another berth. 

No favors shown to any one. 

For each must prove his work well done; 

For though the mill may grind real slow. 

Yet in the end, results will show. 

FIFTY YEARS OLD 

I've reached the zenith of my life. 

Still struggling with this worldly strife; 

Some harvests I have laid in store, 

But still I wish to gather more. 

It seems there is no time to rest. 

The tide now seems just at its crest; 

Ambition grips me in its vice. 

And greater wealth doth me entice. 

I sometimes think, at eventide. 

While wife is sitting by my side, 

I'd like to quit all business strife. 

And take my ease the rest of life. 

— 22S- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



SEVENTY YEARS OLD 

I'm now full three score years and ten, 
And scarce can write for trembling pen; 
It seemeth now in looking back, 
I've made mistakes in every track. 
I've gained in this world, much of wealth — 
At cost of strength and loss of health; 
I cannot take this wealth with me. 
Across the dark immortal sea! 
I've reached the evening of my life, 
And soon must leave this mortal strife: 
The wealth I 've gained seems now, but dross- 
Compared in value with the loss. 



SAD AND WEARY 

O, I feel so sad and weary. 

That I fain would be at rest; 
All the world seems dark and dreary — 

Dismal clouds are in the west. 
Autumn winds &^e sadly sighing. 

Grief seems mingled with their tone; 
Blooms and blossoms all are dying, 

Leafless trees are left, alone. 

Over hills and vales I wander. 

Seeking for the spring of youth — 
Pro and con, both here and yonder — 

Like a hermit seeking truth. 
Slowly creeping, sadly weeping — 

Disappointments bend the frame; 
Tares and thistles for the reaping — 

Burns the heart with mem'ry's flame. 
-224— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Youth is bright at early morning, 

Age seems withered and forlorn — 
With a frosty head adorning — 

For lost youth doth ever mourn. 
Ah ! my youth is gone forever — 

It will ne'er return again — 
Ardent hopes, age doth disever — 

Fills with retrospective pain. 

Now my lamps with cloudy vision 

Strive to pierce the foggy morn, 
And I bow with sad submission, 

As I'm scratched and torn by thorn. 
Struggling up the rugged hillside 

Of life's journey day by day — 
Often swept by the old mill tide 

Of the Gods, I lose my way. 

Soon I'll stretch me by the wayside. 
Ne'er again to struggle more — 

And sail o'er immortal life's tide. 
To an unTcTiown mystic shore, 

TO LUDIE H. 

The best and dearest friend I knew, 
Was a poor boy with eyes of blue, 
Who had not much of this world's store. 
And cared but little to get more. 

Though weighted down with toil and care. 
He kept his heart free from despair. 
And labored faithful to the end. 
Until God called him to ascend. 

—225- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



His open face and eyes of blue. 
Bespoke a nature good and true; 
And when a smile lit up his face, 
A loving sweetness you could trace. 

His face comes to me every day, 
Although his form's beneath the clay: 
His early friendship was a joy, 
With naught to tarnish or annoy. 

As years pass swiftly in their flight. 
And friends like him pass into night, 
My heart is filled with lonesome pain. 
And longs to see each face again. 

We meet and mingle here on earth — 
Find many men of real true worth — 
But never can the spirit blend 
With them, like with a boyhood friend. 

Now, oft in quiet solitude, 
I sit me down and muse, and brood, 
And think of him, my boyhood friend — 
While anguished grief my soul doth rend. 

I miss him as the years go by. 
And often my poor heart doth sigh 
For just one glance of his dear face. 
Which in my heart finds an embrace. 

I trust some day we'll meet again. 
In that sweet land where God doth reign; 
Where there's no grief, no toil, no care. 
But joy supreme is always there. 



-226— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



MAID OF EARLE 

Lovely maid of Earle, incline; 
Let thy rosy lips touch mine; 
Though my soul should anguished be, 
Its unhappiness would flee. 

Let my longing heart be pressed 
Closely, to thy heaving breast; 
All its fevered throbbing pain, 
Would its normal then regain. 

And if happen I should chance, 
Just to catch a fleeting glance 
Of two lovely heaps of snow. 
It would make my joy o 'erf low. 

For I long to pillow there — 
On those snow white heaps, so fair. 
This poor aching head of mine — 
There forever, to recline. 

Oh, the joy, exquisite bliss, 
At the very thought of this ! 
Just to have my head lie there, 
Would expel all worldly care. 



BRETHREN OF THE THREE DEGREES 

Dear brethren of the three degrees, 
I think of you when on my knees, 
And pray that God may bless you in 
Those paths of virtue, free from sin. 

—227— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

I think of you when all is still 
At night, and sitting near the mill 
Close by, I drop a tear and sigh 
For Auld Lang Syne, the days gone by. 

Dear Master, and you brethren, too — 

I know you to be good and true — 

I know your hearts are full of love, 

And hope to meet you all above. 

I know the zeal that doth inspire 

Your hearts with love, 'twas with such fire. 

The noble Pike, wrought out his work. 

Oh, never from your duty shirk; 

But ever onward press, look up. 

The glorious prize — that golden cup — 

"The oil of joy", shall be your share 

In that celestial land so fair — 

Where all good Masons hope at last 

To rest themselves; forget the past 

Troubles and cares of life, press on, 

Night fades away; bright breaks the dawn. 

Now let us 'round this altar stand. 
And grasp each other by the hand; 
Eternal friendship we have sworn — 
Yet oft times I have felt forlorn — 
When fickle fortune played me wrong. 
And friends seemed false and distant swung 
Their recognition; their cold clasp 
Soul-less, like the sting of an asp! 

Tonight my heart is full of love; 
Its inspiration's from above; 
Every thought to God it raises. 
Adoration, thanks and praises. 

-228— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

God bless you, brothers, one and all; 
We meet here equal, great and small; 
My heart is warm, though faults are grave; 
Your love, your love is all I crave. 

ON DEATH OF MRS. H. 

See her lying there so pale — 
Tiny little form so frail — 
Beautiful in death so white — 
Sleeping her last sleep tonight.^ 
Ah, grim death with his keen knife, 
Has cut off her gentle life; 
Gone's the spirit from the clay — 
Gone to heaven, there to stay. 

Soon, ah, soon, her body must 
Be consigned unto the dust; 
Soon a little mound of green, 
In the graveyard, will be seen; 
And sad tears will water there — 
Many flowers sweet and fair; 
Then on marble stone we'll trace — 
Her dear name to mark the place; 

And as that spot will be dear, 
Oft you'll find us gathered near, 
Just to sit and silent muse — 
With her spirit, to infuse: 
And at last when ends earth's tide. 
We'll be laid close by her side. 
There to slumber in God's love, 
'Til He calls us home above. 

—229- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



WE SELDOM WED 

'Tis often said we seldom wed, 
The sweetheart of our youth; 

And then 'tis said that tears are shed 
Because of this sad truth. 

The girl you knew with eyes of blue. 
That caused your heart to beat; 

Seemed good and true as up you grew, 
And none seemed quite so sweet. 

Some other maid, the devil played 

With roguish, drooping eye; 
The first sweet maid, all proud and staid 

Then coldly passed you by. 

In after years with bitter tears. 

In both your hearts a sigh; 
Wedlock affairs with loveless cares, 

Just made a darkened sky. 



THE OLD EXCUSE: AT LODGE LAST NIGHT 

Dear wife, I was at lodge last night — 

"The tipsy rascal said," 
And there received such wondrous light, 

I almost lost my head. 
The Master, he was at his best. 

Was full of earnest zeal; 
The candidate was sure impressed — 

To him it was most real. 

—230— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The mystic rite was carried through 

With solemn air and mien; 
The pearly gates were ope'd to view, 

But devils flit between. 
He who was taking the degree, 

Was in an awful fright — 
Was trembling in each joint and knee — 

And ready for a flight. 

His hair was standing on its end — 

His eyes — oh, 'twas a sight — 
He was so scared he could not bend 

His knees to pray last night. 
I felt so sorry for old Ben — 

He is my friend, you know — 
And so I stayed all night, and then, 

I helped him home to go. 

As thus the rascal slyly spoke. 

And thought that all was well — 
His wife upon him quickly broke 

A stick, and, sad to tell — 
A new degree conferred on him 

With all her might and main. 
She pummelled him with angry vim. 

His pleadings were in vain. 

She scratched his face and pulled his hair, 

She threw him on the floor — 
Until in desperate despair — 

He said, I'll go no more. 
Henceforth I'll stay at home with thee — 

I'll do what'er you say — 
I'll be real good as you shall see. 

Strike me no more, I pray. 

—231- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



For full three weeks he lay in bed. 

He was so awfiil sore; 
And as he laid there often said — 

My dear^ I'll go no more. 
Now all you Masons, for your lives. 

Don't tell such foolish lies; 
You cannot pass it on your wives. 

For they are getting wise. 



A TRIAL 

WRITTEN THE YEAR THAT THE (PULLMAN 
SHOPS WERE CLOSED^ AND COXEy's ARMY 
WAS MARCHING TO WASHINGTON, D. C. 

The large court house was crowded; 

There was scarcely standing room; 
The pris'ner stood with clouded 

Face, waiting to hear his doom. 
A girl stood by him sadly, 

With a look so wan and lone — 
The judge's heart strings madly 

Throbbed, to keep suppressed a groan. 

Pris'ner! You're charged with stealing; 

Have you anything to say — 
Why this court in its ruling. 

Should not pass sentence today? 
The jury's found you guilty. 

And the goods were on you found; 
I am inclined to pity 

You, if there's excusive ground. 

—232— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Your Honor, said the pris'ner, 

Fifteen years ago, this day, 
I married Mary Miller; 

"She died the twelfth of May." 
She left me this one jewel — 

The only fruit of our love — 
Said, Charley, don't be cruel 

To her, then, meet me above. 

I tried to do my duty — 

Worked with all my strength, my aim- 
To keep my daughter Juty, 

From a life of sin and shame. 
The Pullman shops were shut down, 

And we were put out of room; 
We tramped miles all over town — 

With hearts bowed down with gloom. 

Poor Juty, faint with starving. 

Said, Father, I — can — not — go — 
An — oth — er step; I'm dy — ing! 

Judge ! I knew not what to do ! 
To see my darling starving 

With plenty to eat in sight! 
Judge! Do you call it stealing? 

Yes, I took the bread that night. 



A loud sound of sobbing, broke 
Upon the listening ears; 

A girVs voice, grief -broken, spoke 
Of troubles, sorrorvs and cares. 



—233- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Oh, Judge, forgive my father, 
To save me he did this deed; 

Judge, have you got a daughter? 
Then think of the dreadful need ! 

My father's not a thief, sir, 

He always worked when he could; 
Was kind to me, his daughter. 

Was a father true and good. 
And, Judge, when hard times came on, 

When he thought I was asleep, 
I've seen him kneeling upon 

The floor, and there sadly weep. 

I know that it was wrong, sir. 

But think of our sore distress; 
'Twas either that or death, sir — 

The angels will surely hless! 
As she stopped speaking, sobbing 

Could be heard on every side; 
Some on the floor were kneeling — 

Others, with loud voices cried. 



The Judge, with voice quite broken. 
Said, this sentence I suspend; 

Prisoner, the door is open — 
And your conduct I commend. 



They crowded 'round the pris'ner, 
Audience, jury. Judge and all; 

They raised him on their shoulder, 
And carried him in the hall. 



—234— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



They loaded him with kindness 

As they crowded 'round that day — 

They made up^ in their gladness — 
Funds to help him on the way. 



JVe learn from this, my countrymen, 

How grasping rvealth, combined. 
Can force poor laboring 7nen — 

In poverty's chains confined — 
To steal or starve, Ah, awful shame 

That such should be their fate; 
Our country's lost its honored fame — 

Awake! e'er 'tis too late! 
Let not the tyrant hand of wealth 

Cause you to live by stealth; 
Your children cry with gasping breath! 

And shall they starve to death? 
You have the power in your hand. 
If you will firmly stand; 
You have the right which gives you might 
Together pull and fight: 
Let tyrants feel the mighty strength — 
All o'er this broad land's length. 
Of honest laws to break the chains 
Of all ill-gotten gains. 



HUMMING BIRDS 

On my front porch there came in quest 
Two humming birds to build a nest; 
And all the time that I could see^ 
They were as busy as could be. 

—235— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

When finished was each twig and leaf, 
It seemed to give one bird relief; 
She sat upon the tiny nest, 
And settled down as if to rest. 
The other bird with slender beak. 
Amongst the flowers seemed to peek; 
He'd run his beak up in their cup, 
And sweetest nectar from them sup. 
A buzzing sound from him was heard, 
While lightning wings the zephyrs stirred. 
His dazzling beauty was a sight — 
No words of mine describes aright. 
He'd poise himself upon the air — 
So cute and sweet, and debonair — 
That in your heart he found a place, 
As here and there he'd swiftly race; 
For every movement, soi demure. 
Was such as would your heart allure, 
And like a maiden, to incite. 
His glance just filled you with delight. 

The other bird, with sedate way. 
Just sat upon the nest all day; 
And then, although you say absurd ! 
Quite soon appeared another bird. 
Although a tiny little mite, 
I gazed upon it with delight; 
The mother watched with tender care, 
The little nestling lying there. 
She nestled it beneath her wing — 
Although I never heard her sing — 
And silent sat as days passed by, 
Until the little thing could fly. 



-236- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

One day I went to peep again^ 

And started back with grief and pain; 

The little nest was empty, bare, 

And filled my heart with sad despair. 

The leaves were gone, the blooms in blight. 

The little birds had taken flight. 

I missed them as the days passed by, 

And often for them I would sigh; 

But when old winter passed away. 

The little birds came back to lay. 

One morn when spring was in the air. 

Again I found them nesting there. 



MY OLD HOME IN THE COUNTRY 

Some years ago when I abode. 

In an old home close by the road, 

I loved to sit beneath the trees, 

And listen to the birds and bees. 

The house, old fashioned in its style — 

For comfort would a king beguile; 

Its broad front porch, with vines of green. 

Suggested life, calm and serene. 

Beneath a massive, grand old oak, 

I used to love to sit and smoke — 

While birds overhead would sit and sing, . 

As if life was eternal spring. 

My thoughts would often drift along — 

With the music of a bird's sweet song; 

And gently fanned by zephyrs breeze — 

I'd silent nod in rhythmic ease, 

—237- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The tangled thicket 'cross the road — 

Where many little creatures 'bode — 

Had many blossoms hidden there, 

To nature lovers, ever fair. 

The pine trees with unchanging green — 

In distant view enhanced the scene. 

The winding road, lined with green fern, 

Made beautiful each twist and turn. 

A meadow out before you spread^ 
Where many daisies showed their head; 
While here and there persimmon trees — 
With golden leaves swayed to the breeze. 
A splashing, babbling little brook, 
Led downward to a lovely nook, 
And just beyond, wild flowers rare, 
Grew in profusion everywhere. 

Near my bed window stood a tree, 
Where song birds mated full of glee; 
And often when to bed I'd creep, 
Their soft sweet notes lulled me to sleep. 
My mem'ry turns to one sweet night, 
When pale moon rays were shining bright; 
I thought I heard an angel sing — 
While hovering o'erhead on the wing. 

My window opened to the tree, 
Where birds had mated full of glee, 
i\.nd blessed with birdlike fruits of love — 
Just sang their praise to God above. 
The wonder filled me with amaze. 
And I awoke in dreamy daze; 
A mocking bird at break of day, 
Was caroling a soft sweet lay. 
-238— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



COME, LITTLE MAID 

Come, little maid, 

Come tell me true — 
Do you love me? 

Say that you do! 
Smile on me sweetly, 

Don't be shy. 
Oh, little maid. 

For you I'd die! 

Oh, how I love you. 

Little maid ! 
Why do you tease me, 

Naughty jade? 
Oh, little maid, 

Don't be so cold. 
List' to the sweetest 

Story told. 

Take this rose, dear, 

Place in your hair; 
Oh, little maid. 

You are so fair! 
Place thy dear 

Little hand in mine. 
And say, sweetheart, 

I will be thine. 

Oh, little maid, 

Please name the day — 
When with me 

You will go away ! 



—239- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Go with me 

To remain for life, 
And be my darling 

Little wife. 



SMILE 

'Tis true a smile begets a smile, 
Likewise a frown, a frown; 

Reciprocating all the while 

With joy, you'll sorrow drown. 

Quite oft regret will o'er us steal 

For angry words of past. 
And old remorse then makes us feel 

A pain that oft doth last. 

In this old world the span of life 

Is very short indeed; 
If you'll avoid all hate and strife, 

You'll have friends when in need. 

No word of kindness spoken yet, 

Has ever been in vain; 
And e'en of those you've but once met- 

Quite oft a friend you'll gain. 

A smile will beautify the face, 
And keep you young and fair; 

In memory's heart you'll have a place, 
And find sweet welcome there. 



-240- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARK S 



AN ANSWER TO A POEM WRITTEN BY MISS 
S. OF OREGON. POEM WAS ENTITLED, ''IF" 

In answer to your soldier's "If" — 
Excuse the rhymes if they seem stiff, 
For I endorse the sentiment, 
And this last war, my heart has rent. 

War, even at its very best. 

Is not at all a welcome guest; 

'Tis caused by greed and lust for power. 

And robs us of young manhood's flower. 

But still, a nation has to fight 
Sometimes, to keep the others right; 
E 'en though it brings a bitter tear. 
And fills some poor heart with despair; 
To make the world a better place 
For men, in peace, to run their race — 
That all in safety might pursue 
Their life on earth, with happy view. 

The mothers suffer most of all, 
When to their country's urgent call 
Their sons enlist, and march away. 
Perhaps to sleep in foreign clay; 
But after all this may be best, 
If, to the world, both peace and rest 
Should be the outcome of this war, 
And to all others, be a bar: 

But few are perfect here on earth — 
But few are fit for heaven's worth — 
Though some may shout, "EXCELSIOR"! 
They miss the mark, fall short by far. 

—241- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

On earth, we are but simple men, 
Born full of faults, "of this you ken"? 
Your standard's high, we don't deny, 
But reaches far beyond the sky. 

We can obey our country's call; 

And for the right, give e'en our all 

Without applause, or winning fame. 

Or selfish thought, and without blame ! 

And we can even gladly die — 

The shadows of grim death defy — 

If only through our dying tear. 

We see 'twas for some one we held dear! 

But then, the other things you ask! 
Alas ! you put us to a task 
That even angels could not do; 
And that much we agree with you. 



THOU SHALT HAVE FREEDOM, ALL 

Dark lowering clouds spread over the world! 
Might, not right's banner, was to be unfurled; 
Men's hearts were faint, filled with sickening fear- 
Sought vain to escape groping here and there. 

A beast full of lustful greed and power 

Had stretched his claws, and dark was the hour! 

The lustful beast's mammoth form did tower 

With greedy appetite, to devour 

The nation's best, their young manhood's power; 

And freedom's cause seemed lost that self same hour! 



-242- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



More than fearful seemed the cost — 

And strong men faintly whispered, '^All is lost!" 

Those mighty hordes whose tramps did shake the earth, 
With wanton rape and frightful things gave birth; 
Then woman's fearful scream! many a maid 
On knees, implored our country's aid: 

The cry was heard! and soon a mighty throng — 
The best of our young manhood, good and strong — 
Was on the way to check the frightful wrong : 

Through perils — crossed the mighty deep — 
And from old France, those mighty hordes did sweep! 
Nor stopped they there, but to his knees they brought — 
And caused the beast, "unwelcome guest", unsought — 
To flee his country with a lesson taught! 

Then as the world lay bleeding at our feet — 
With millions even without food to eat — 
A mighty fleet of merchant ships were sent. 
And billions for their sustenance was spent. 

Nor stopped we there! to all small nations call — 
Our Wilson said, thou shalt have freedom, all. 



NOBODY CALLS 

I'm lonely each day, 

For nobody calls; 
I'm left all alone 

To gaze on the walls; 
Wherever I go 

I'm met with a stare — 
Of freezing disdain. 

That fills with despair. 

—243— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

Each day as I strive 

Temptations to down, 
And live a clean life 

To merit a crown, 
I 'm passed with an air 

Of haughty disdain — 
That fills my poor heart 

With sorrow and pain. 

Although in back seats 

Where church pews are free — 
That pew, all alone, 

Is left to poor me; 
And although I pray — 

I pray but in vain — 
For each of them fear 

The touch of my stain. 

In anguish of soul 

I pray the dear God — 
To help me bear all, 

And tender the rod ; 
To open the eye 

And tender some heart — 
To take me within, 

And some love impart. 

I know I'm not good — 

Am stained with my sin — 
But doing my best 

Sweet heaven to win. 
But oh, it is weary 

To struggle alone. 
When you ask for bread — 

They give you a stone! 



—244— 



SONGS FROxM THE OZARKS 



More kindness was shown 

When steeped in my sin, 
I went the full round 

In abandonment's spin; 
For sometimes I found 

A kind hearted man — 
Who opened his heart 

To the poor courtesan. 

Sometimes in my room 
I sat with a friend. 

Without sinful thought — 
But mem'ry would rend — 

When mother's sweet face- 
Like a dim misty dream, 

Flashed into my view 
With a transient gleam: 

Ah! then would I think 

With a sinking despair, 
Of sweet childhood days — 

So free from all care! 
To kill old remorse 

I'd up with a bound — 
Enter the ball room, 

And dance gaily around. 

I'd empty the glass 

'Til my pulse was aflame. 
And expose all my charms 

To advertise shame: 
E'en there I could find 

A transient relief 
To drown old remorse. 

For a few moments brief! 



-245— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Excitement was there^ 

Relieving the mind 
Of sin's dark conscience, 

To temper the wind! 
And jo3^ of its kind 

To make you forget — 
For in the mad whirl, 

You thought no regret. 

But here, in my room, 

I sit all alone, 
With nothing to do 

But think and bemoan. 
Not one of my sex 

With friendly voice near^ 
To speak a good word 

Of comfort and cheer. 

The grave of my past 

Is in shallow ground. 
For often the corpse 

Of that past is found ; 
Then, gathered around 

The poor rotting frame, 
My sex seem to joy 

In flaunting my shame. 

Like some sweet morsel 

The palate enjoys — 
''Of things replete. 

The tongue never cloys" — 
They dig up my past 

And toss it about — 
In glorious joy, 

They sing and they shout ! 



—246- 



SONGS FROAI THE OZARKS 



Like a pharisee 

Born in his conceit, 
They can't comprehend 

Repentance complete; 
The publican prayed, 

And prayed not in vain — 
That God would forgive. 

And cleanse him from stain. 

But nevertheless, 

Forgetful of this — 
They gather their skirts 

And scornfully hiss. 
Forgetting perhaps — 

In their own conceit — 
Their brothers were not, 

Like them, so discreet. 

They say of the men, 

They must have their fling — 
That nothing they do 

Will leave lasting sting; 
That call of the wild 

To ardent youth's fire — 
In after years make 

Men the maids all admire. 

They say of those men — 

You will always find — 
To reforming girls, 

A friend true and kind; 
But many I knew 

In the days of old sin. 
Now speak to their wives 

With grim discipline. 

—247- 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Forbidding a word 

Wherever they meet — 
To reforming girls, 

In church or in street. 
Forgetting themselves 

The life of the past — 
No confidence in 

The once poor outcast. 

'Tis true there are some 

Whose faces reveal 
A heart full of love — 

That ever doth feel 
For poor fallen girls ; 

For, ah, they have seen 
The life they once led 

Behind the dark screen: 

And ever they speak 

A word of sweet cheer 
To help them along — 

In language sincere; 
And all of the past 

In their mind is erased — 
To help the poor girl 

To live a life chaste. 

^ow give me your ear, 

Attention, my friend! 
Let self righteousness 

For once condescend! 
Let curtains he raised 

And closets unlocked. 
And skeletons walk 

While priests are unfrocked! 



-248— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Let men in front yews 

And women in choirs, 
Call on the good Lord, 

To escape Sodom's fires! 
Uncover yourselves 

And let the world see 
How ready you are — 

For the great jubilee! 

Let him throw the stone 

Who's now free from sin! 
Come quick — get ready — 

Say! who will begin'? 
What! Ha! You are pale! 

Your sin's found you out! 
The sight before men. 

Has put you to rout. 

What! e'en before men 

You tremble with dread? 
What chance have you then 

Before God overhead? 
What now of the girl 

Who tries to reform? 
Who stands all alone 

Amidst the world's storm? 

Will she before God 

Stand there all alone — 
While you and your kind 

Pass on to the throne? 
Oh, power above! 

Remove from the eye 
The beam that makes each, 

Their acts justify. 



-249— 



SONGS FROIVI THE OZARKS 



I live in a house as brittle as glass, 
And will not tramp down a poor fallen lass; 
I'll give her a smile and stretch out my hand, 
And help her out of the sinking sand. 

I ANSWER NOT 

I answer not those cold and distant men 
Who have no time to read a dreamer's pen — 
Who concentrate their narrow minds each day 
On gaining wealth, regardless of the way — 
I merely bow and smile, and say, good-day: 

I wonder, should the song birds fly away, 
And all the flowers wither and decay, 
And babbling brooklet waters stagnant lie. 
And breezes through the tree tops cease to sigh, 
I wonder, then, if in their hearts they'd say — 
Oh, God ! Dear God ! Oh, send them back, I pray ? 

If they but knew the store of beauty's wealth. 
Which cannot, like their gains, be got by stealth — 
The fairies whisper in the poet's ear. 
All greed and selfishness would disappear. 

I merely bow and smile, and go my way 

And tune my harp, and sing new songs each day — 

And in the sunshine of new beauties bask. 

And leave them bending o'er their greedy task. 

Not all are cold and selfish that I meet. 
Some say, God bless you, brother, have a seat — 
And grasping by the hand with smiling way — 
All o'er their face, soul's beauty doth display. 

-250— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



The sweetness of my heart goes out to them 
All sparkling with love's royal diadem; 
And though they do not always buy my wares- 
Yet all the day seems free from earthly cares. 

God bless the noble hearted ones we meet — 
Whose clasp — be it in palace or in street — 
All snobbishness and arrogance doth ban, 
And makes us feel the brotherhood of man ! 

I merely bow and smile, and go my way, 
And leave those cold and selfish ones, who say, 
"I have no time to read a dreamer's pen", 
And seek until I find more kindly men. 

OF HOMELY THINGS I SING 

Dear Burns, like thee, of homely things I sing— 
Those humble scenes that to the poor, bring 
A touch of joy that lightens toil and care, 
And gives them just a little pleasure here. 

The poor have many burdens hard to bear — 

So hard, indeed, that often in despair 

They lose all hope, and thus cast down, they sigh- 

And^ for relief, so sadly moan and cry. 

Ah! many wrongs they have imposed on them — 
That all the world, indignant, should condemn: 
Well knew our Savior when on earth He said 
That those — who to the manor born and bred — 
Descendants from a boasted pedigree — 



—251— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 



Would scarce be able heaven's gate to see; 
For well He knew the power money gave — 
To gratify the passions of a knave ! 
That wealthy ones in idle pleasure bent, 
Was oft the cause of many a poor heart's rent. 

Should we the sins of wealthy ones unfold. 
And give the world a glance within the mold — 
To view the thoughts in most of them that dwell — 
'Twould take a regiment, the crowd to quell. 

Ah! wearily the mother, bent with toil, 
Doth pray, her baby no one shall despoil; 
For well she knows that when from home away, 
Some fiend, her daughter's honor may betray; 
For well she knows, these dirty imps of hell. 
Have power here on earth to buy and sell! 

Her heart's deep bitterness she can't control, 
And anguish oft doth wring her very soul ; 
Yet relief is felt in her heaving sighs. 
For to cure each pain, nature's law applies. 

Of course, dear Burns, in candor I should add — 
That many of the ivealthy ones are not had; 
But then they are so pitifully few — 
We lose sight of them in the larger view. 

So I will sing to them sweet homely songs — 

Perhaps in listening, they'll forget their wrongs — 

And joining in the chorus full and free — 

Will make the welkin ring with jubilee; 

Then gathered with their loved ones 'round the fire, 

In happy mood, accompany the lyre 

—252— 



SONGS FROM THE OZARKS 

With songs of mine; and as full and free — 
Their happy voices swell with melody — 
A moment then — their heart's all free from care — 
A smile may come, and wrinkles disappear; 
And e'en their bent forms may straighten up 
With joy, as they forget the bitter cup. 

Can a reward there be greater than this — 
Than fill a poor and lowly heart with bliss? 
To see such souls all full of gratitude — 
To me, would be a taste of heaven's food. 

But, ah ! too oft we sing for great one 's ears — 
Forgetful of these poor one's griefs and tears — 
And puffed with pride and flattering deceit — 
We tune the harp strings and sing with conceit. 

Then let me sing one song that will atone 
And compensate for sins that I have sown: 
One song of melody to reach each heart 
With a balm of Gilead to impart; 
One song that may tender to lighten the load 
Of poor weary mortals on this life's road. 



^253— 



SONGS FRO.M THE OZARKS 



FINIS 

May beauty from my soil spring iip^ 

Where e'er I may repose; 
The lily and the buttercup — 

And here and there a rose; 
Wild flowers that blow in the spring, 

To feed the busy bees; 
And may the birds come there and sing, 

In the top of swaying trees. 

In after years when I shall sleep 

Beneath a mound of green, 
And nature's blooms o'er me shall creep, 

Enhancing all the scene — 
Should 3'OU pass by my melting frame. 

And pluck some beauty rare. 
Remember, from my soil it came — 

^^ Sprung from me, lying there." 

J. M. Hickman. 



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LIBRARY 




